THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


1 


HELIOTYPE     REPRODUCTION 


A    DAGUERREOTYPE    PORTRAIT    OF  THEODORE    PARKER, 
TAKEN    AT  THE    AGE    OF  THIRTY-NINE. 


THEODORE  PARKER 


A  BIOGRAPHY. 


BY 

OCTAVIUS    BROOKS    FROTHINGHAM. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    R.    OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY, 

(LATE  TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  AND  FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  co.) 
1874. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


BOSTON  : 
RAND,  AVERY,  &  Co.,  STEREOTYPKRS  AND  PRINTERS. 


PREFACE. 


THE  friends  of  Theodore  Parker's  ideas,  as  well  as 
the  lovers  of  his  person,  thinking  that  his  day  was  not 
done,  but  was  rather  about  to  break,  have  long  wished 
that  he  might  be  introduced  to  a  new  public  by  a  new 
biography.  The  "  Life  "  by  John  Weiss,  written  as  soon 
as  possible  after  Mr.  Parker's  decease,  and  published  in 
1 863,  for  obvious  reasons  failed  to  command  the  atten 
tion  it  deserved.  Being  issued  in  two  large  volumes, 
it  proved  to  be  too  heavy  for  general  circulation,  besides 
being  too  costly  for  general  purchase.  Another  draw 
back  to  popular  favor  was  found  in  the  space  given  to 
letters  and  discussions,  which,  however  interesting  in 
themselves,  and  however  important  as  contributions  to 
thought,  had  the  effect  of  blurring  the  outline  of  his 
individuality.  But  a  disadvantage  more  serious,  per 
haps,  than  either  of  these,  was  the  publication  of  the 
work  at  a  time  when  the  destinies  of  the  nation  hung 
on  a  thread,  and  the  crowding  events  of  the  war  pushed 
into  obscurity  nearly  all  memories,  and  allowed  the  pub 
lic  eye  to  rest  only  on  such  men  as  the  combat  made 
famous. 

The  clearing-away  of  the  war-cloud  displays  once 
more  the  figure  of  Theodore  Parker  as  one  of  the 


iv  PREFACE. 

nation's  true  prophets,  and  at  the  same  time  reveals  a 
country  prepared  in  some  degree  to  receive  the  best 
results  of  his  thought  and  experience.  In  the  hope 
that  these  results  may  be  appreciated  better  than 
hitherto,  this  memoir  is  written.  The  author's  aim 
has  been  simply  to  recover  and  present  the  person  of 
Mr.  Parker  with  all  simplicity,  omitting  some  details 
which  Mr.  Weiss's  valuable  biography  will  supply  to  the 
more  searching  student,  and  making  prominent  the 
mental  and  moral  traits  which  concern  the  miscella 
neous  public. 

The  present  biographer,  in  addition  to  the  materials 
that  were  placed  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Weiss,  has  been 
intrusted  with  many  private  letters  and  personal  remi 
niscences,  which  enable  him  to  fill  out  his  picture  with 
more  delicate  touches.  From  old  sources  and  new  it 
has  been  his  delightful  task  to  extract  the  qualities  of 
the  man  in  such  a  way,  that  the  records,  literary  and 
historical,  may  reveal,  and  not  cumber  or  cloak,  his 
form.  Should  the  portrait  be  unfaithful  or  inadequate, 
the  artist  alone  will  be  at  fault. 

Or  rather  let  me  say,  should  it  be  unfaithful ;  for 
inadequate  it  must  be  in  the  judgment  of  many,  and 
chiefly  of  those  who  knew  Mr.  Parker  most  intimately. 
There  was  more  in  him  than  any  one  mind,  even  the 
most  candid  and  sympathetic,  could  see  ;  and  there  was 
much  in  him  that  few,  if  any,  were  ever  permitted  to  see  ; 
the  private  journal,  to  which  he  committed  his  most 
secret  thoughts,  containing  many  things  of  deep  signifi 
cance  as  illustrations  of .  his  interior  life,  which  could 
not  with  the  least  propriety  be  published,  even  when 
their  meaning  is  clear,  and  which  often  need  interpre 
tation.  None  of  them  exhibit  qualities  inconsistent 


PREFACE.  V 

with  a  very  noble  character  ;  but  some  of  them  point 
to  secret  recesses  of  feeling  which  cannot  be  un 
covered. 

A  few  months  before  his  death,  to  an  intimate  friend 
who  put  a  question  in  regard  to  his  literary  executor 
he  said,  "  If  any  one  writes  my  life,  I  think  it  will  be 
George  Ripley :  he,  better  than  any  one,  understands 
my  philosophy,  and  what  I  meant  to  do."  —  "  But  the 
personal  life,"  said  the  friend  :  "  who  will  write  that  ? 
When  one  has  achieved  such  a  character  as  yours,  we 
long  to  know  what  elements  have  been  wrought  into 
it."  — "  That  life,"  he  answered  with  deep  emotion, 
"  cannot  be  written.  I  have  been  asked  to  employ 
these  few  remaining  months  in  preparing  an  auto 
biography.  But  it  must  be  written  in  tears  of  blood, 
if  at  all."  It  never  was  written  ;  and  only  so  much  of 
the  interior  life  as  a  plain  record  of  thoughts  and  ac 
tions  exhibits  can  be  disclosed.  That  will  be  quite 
enough  for  those  who  did  not  know  him  well :  it  will 
be  all  that  is  desired  by  those  who  did. 

O.  B.  F. 

NEW  YORK,  October,  1873. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE. 
BIRTHPLACE  AND  PARENTAGE .        i 

CHAPTER   II. 
HOME  AND  BOYHOOD 10 

CHAPTER   III. 
TEACHING  AND  STUDY 28 

CHAPTER    IV. 
DIVINITY  HALL 41 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  CANDIDATE 67 

CHAPTER  VI. 
WEST  ROXBURY 88 

CHAPTER    VII. 
THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT 125 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY 147 

CHAPTER    IX. 
EUROPE 183 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED 210 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  PASTOR 241 

CHAPTER    X!l. 

THE  PASTOR.  —  SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE  .        .        .        .    252 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

PAGE. 
THE  PREACHER 332 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  REFORMER 352 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY 376 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  KANSAS  WAR 435 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
FAILING  HEALTH 477 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  SEARCH 508 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE  ETERNAL  CITY 521 

CHAPTER  XX. 
TRIBUTES 537 


THEODORE   PARKER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTHPLACE  AND   PARENTAGE. 

A  STRANGER,  visiting  the  place  where  Theodore  Parker 
passed  his  early  years,  did  not  find  it  attractive.  Explor 
ing  the  neighborhood  on  a  fair  spring-day,  he  asked  a 
man  who  was  mending  the  road  where  Theodore  Parker 
was  born.  The  man  leaned  on  his  spade,  stared  at  the 
traveller,  looked  puzzled,  and  replied,  "  Dunno."  —  "  Are 
you  a  new-comer  here  ? "  —  "  No,  sir :  lived  here,  man  and 
boy,  nigh  on  to  forty  year."  —  "Are  there  no  Parkers 
about  here?"  — "Yes:  there's  tew  lots  on  'em."  — "I 
wish  to  find  the  old  Parker  place,"  said  the  stranger. 
"Older'n  creation,  both  on  'em,"  was  the  reply.  "The 
Captain  Parker  place  is  the  one  I  want."  —  "  They  run  to 
cappens,"  was  the  exasperating  rejoinder:  "but  I  guess 
you  had  better  take  that  'ar  road  to  the  left,  and  go  about 
a  mile ;  then  turn  down  a  lane,  and  at  the  end  there's  a 
monnerment  that  must  be  set  up  for  Cappen  Parker." 
The  traveller,  obeying  the  direction,  found  the  monument 
that  preserves  the  great  preacher's  memory. 

This  incident  tells  many  things :  the  limited  influence 
of  a  great  man's  name ;  the  power  of  association  to  glorify 
i  i 


2  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ordinary  spots ;  the  absence  of  neighborly  feeling  in  rural 
populations ;  and  the  crudeness  of  society  within  ten  miles 
of  the  great  city.  What  the  tourist  found  on  arriving  at 
the  place  of  his  quest  was  much  the  same  as  what  the 
boy  whose  name  led  him  thither  used  to  see.  There 
was  the  old  bell-tower,  which  had  rung  out  the  alarm 
on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  and  had  done 
humbler  service  since  as  a  workshop;  the  broad  stone 
ledge  behind  the  house  remained  ;  meadow,  orchard, 
wood,  were  unchanged  ;  the  ash-tree  planted  by  Theo 
dore  —  which  showed  its  grief  at  his  death  by  bearing  but 
one  crop  of  leaves  instead  of  the  two  it  displayed  during 
his  life  —  still  held  its  place;  the  double-headed  pine, 
that  seemed  a  wonder,  was  as  much  as  ever  a  feature  in 
the  landscape :  but  the  old  house  was  gone. 

That  was  a  hundred  years  old  when  Theodore  saw  the 
light;  having  been  built  in  1710  by  his  great-grandfather, 
John  Parker,  who,  with  children  and  grandchildren,  came 
to  Lexington  (then  called  Cambridge  Farms)  from  Read 
ing.  John  Parker  was  a  grandson  of  Thomas,  who  came 
to  America  in  1635  in  a  vessel  fitted  out  by  Sir  Richard 
Saltonstall,  with  whose  family  he  was  connected  by  mar 
riage.  He  settled  in  Lynn ;  received,  as  one  of  the 
earliest  settlers  of  the  town,  forty  acres  of  land ;  and 
was  made  a  freeman  the  year  after  landing.  In  1640  he 
removed  to  Reading,  was  one  of  seven  who  founded  the 
first  church  there,  and  there  died  in  1683.  He  was  a 
man  of  character.  His  descendants  were  also  serviceable 
in  their  places  ;  doing  their  part  as  land-surveyors,  council- 
men,  adjudicators  of  claims,  teachers,  militiamen,  drill- 
masters,  lieutenants,  and  captains.  They  had  the  fighting- 
temper  in  them,  and  made  themselves  felt  in  hard  battle. 
Hananiah,  the  only  grandson  who  did  not  come  with  John 
to  Lexington,  —  a  lad  of  eighteen, — was  serving  in  a  Mas 
sachusetts  regiment  engaged  in  Virginia. 

If  we  trace  the  family  across  the  water  to  England,  we 


BIRTHPLACE  AND  PARENTAGE.  3 

find  its  roots  deep  down  in  the  soil.  Thomas  came,  per 
haps,  from  a  Lancashire  stock,  which  was  early  trans 
planted  to  Yorkshire,  where  some  of  them  still  live  in  a 
stately  mansion-house  of  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
The  first  who  bore  the  name  in  England  was  a  Norman, 
Johannes  Le  Parkerre.  He  followed  'William  the  Con 
queror,  and  was  keeper  of  the  royal  parks  j  whence  his 
name,  variously  spelled  Parkerre,  Parkre,  Parchour,  Par 
ker.  The  name  occurs  frequently  in  history  in  different 
connections.  Seldom  good  Churchmen,  they  were  scat 
tered  much  at  the  Reformation.  Some  were  executed 
under  Queen  Mary ;  some  were  Puritans  under  Cromwell. 
But  others  were  true  to  the  royalist  party ;  lost  their  lands 
in  consequence,  and  regained  them  when  the  king  "  came  to 
his  own  again."  The  Parkers  in  England  now  are  common 
ly  Churchmen  and  Tories.  The  religious  and  political  tradi 
tions  of  the  family  are  mixed.  The  non-conformist  blood, 
Puritan  and  Quaker,  found  its  way  into  the  New  World. 

Theodore's  grandfather,  John  Parker,  born  1729,  was  a 
marked  man.  He  was  a  sergeant  in  the  French  and  In 
dian  war,  and  present  at  the  capture  of  Quebec.  A 
parishioner  of  the  Rev.  Jonas  Clark,  who  had  done  his 
share  in  rousing  the  people  to  indignation  against  the 
British  claims,  he  was  ready  for  war  when  the  time  came  ; 
answered  at  once  the  summons  to  resist  the  British  at 
Lexington ;  was  present  himself,  though  suffering  from  ill 
ness,  which  exposure  developed  into  a  fatal  disease ;  drew 
up  his  troop  of  seventy  men ;  bade  every  man  load  his 
piece  with  powder  and  ball ;  ordered  them  not  to  fire 
unless  fired  upon ;  but  added,  "  If  they  mean  to  have  a 
war,  let  it  begin  here."  At  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill, 
Captain  Parker  took  from  a  grenadier  the  weapon  which, 
along  with  his  own  light  fowling-piece,  guarded  the  door 
of  Theodore's  study  while  he  lived,  and  now  hangs  in  the 
Massachusetts  Senate  Chamber. 

The  people  of  Lexington  were,  like  the  country  people 


4  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  New  England  generally  fifty  years  ago,  industrious 
after  a  homely  and  unenterprising  fashion,  but  not  spe 
cially  thrifty.  Their  land  was  poor,  their  toil  hard,  their 
wealth  small.  Literary  and  social  advantages  were  scanty. 
There  were  no  lectures,  clubs,  or  associations  for  culture. 
A  small  library  contained  three  or  four  hundred  volumes, 
chiefly  novels,  biographies,  books  of  travel,  with  a  few 
popular  histories.  About  a  dozen  volumes,  light  reading 
for  the  most  part,  were  added  yearly.  The  cost  of  a  share 
was  ten  dollars.  The  library  stood  near  by  the  meeting 
house,  nearly  three  miles  off  from  the  Parker  residence : 
hence  the  custom  of  exchanging  books  on  Sunday. 
While  some  went  to  the  library  for  books,  others  went  to 
Dudley's  tavern,  which  was  also  hard  by,  to  talk  politics, 
tell  stories,  and  drink.  The  drinking  habits  of  the  period 
were  pure  and  simple.  Instead  of  being  apologized  for, 
they  were  commended  on  social  and  on  sanitary  grounds. 
Drink  was  regarded  as  the  poor  man's  food,  the  laboring 
man's  strength.  It  was  introduced  on  sacred  occasions  as 
a  thing  of  course.  One  of  the  earliest  recorded  instances 
of  its  disuse  at  funerals  seems  to  have  been  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Parker,  on  the  occasion  of  his  grandmother's  death. 

There  was  but  one  meeting-house  in  the  village,  the 
minister  of  which  was  a  Unitarian.  The  people,  to  a  very 
large  extent,  shared  his  opinions.  In  fact,  the  germs  of 
the  later  more  cultivated  rationalism  were  sprouting  in 
these  New-England  communities.  The  doctrines  of  the 
Puritan  theology  had  lost  their  hold  on  an  unimagina 
tive  people ;  and  with  them  the  fervors  of  the  evangelical 
spirit  had  declined.  The  sinfulness  of  human  nature,  the 
need  of  redemption,  the  deity  of  Christ,  the  atoning  effi 
cacy  of  his  blood,  the  necessity  of  inward  renewal  by  the 
grace  of  God,  the  worthlessness  of  morality,  the  everlast- 
ingness  of  future  punishment,  the  consciousness  of  ac 
ceptance,  the  immanence  of  Christ  in  the  Church,  the 
eternity  of  bliss  for  believers,  were  all  more  or  less 


BIRTHPLACE  AND  PARENTAGE.  5 

thoughtfully  rejected  by  men  whose  sober  lives  had  settled 
down  into  prose,  and  whose  experience  suggested  little 
of  mystery.  The  preaching  lacked  inspiration :  even  the 
prayers  were  didactic.  The  best  of  the  clergy  were  men 
of  letters,  rarely  prophets :  the  worst  were  neither.  Church 
es  were  closed  to  Whitefield  before  Theodore  Parker  was 
born.  The  seats  of  culture  dreaded  the  influence  of  the 
famous  preacher  of  revivals ;  the  clergy  encouraged  the 
laity  to  frown  down  extravagant  views  ;  the  sacraments  had 
lost  their  charm  ;  the  mystery  had  departed  from  the  com 
munion  ;  baptism  was  rarely  administered ;  heads  of  fami 
lies  were  commonly  church-members,  the  younger  people 
seldom  ;  family  prayers  were  infrequent ;  grace  before  meat 
was  unusual  \  the  clergyman  was  respected  as  a  man  of  edu 
cation  ;  the  sabbath  was  observed  punctually ;  the  Bible 
was  read ;  but  the  soul  of  the  Protestant  faith  had  fled. 

The  parents  of  Theodore  Parker  shared  the  spiritual 
life  of  their  time,  —  the  father  holding  the  rational  views 
with  something  more  than  the  usual  positiveness  of 
conviction,  the  mother  with  something  more  than  the 
usual  depth  of  feeling ;  while  both  added  to  them  a  good 
deal  more  than  the  average  weight  of  character.  John 
Parker,  born  Feb.  14,  1761,  was  a  good  specimen  of  the 
New-England  countryman,  —  a  "  quiet,  thoughtful,  silent, 
reading  man,  of  strong  sense,  of  great  moral  worth,  relia 
ble,  honorable  ;  worked  every  day  and  all  day ;  kept  good 
discipline  in  his  family ;  governed  easily ;  taught  his  chil 
dren  to  speak  the  truth ;  always  had  a  book  in  his  hand 
in  the  evening."  This  is  a  grandson's  testimony.  His 
son  described  him  from  memory  as  a  stout,  able-bodied 
man,  plain  and  solid.  He  could  endure  cold  and  heat, 
abstinence  from  food  and  rest.  A  skilful  farmer,  he  was 
prevented  by  want  of  means  from  making  costly  improve 
ments  on  his  land ;  but  he  had,  perhaps,  the  best  peach- 
orchard  in  Middlesex,  and  adopted  nearly  all  the 
improvements  in  farming  that  had  proved  valuable.  The 


6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

farm-work,  however,  he  left  mainly  to  his  boys,  while  he 
pursued  his  own  occupation  of  mill-wright  and  pump- 
maker  in  the  shop :  for,  like  his  father  and  grandfather 
before  him,  he  was  an  ingenious  mechanic,  and  worker  in 
wood  ;  expert  in  making  and  repairing,  as  men  need  to  be 
in  a  new  country,  where  one  must  do  the  work  of  many. 
He  put  brains  into  his  work ;  originated  new  methods ; 
"made  his  head  save  his  hands." 

Of  course,  he  had  little  education,  and  no  culture ;  but 
of  the  raw  material  of  mind  he  possessed  a  good  deal  : 
he  was  fond  of  intellectual  things,  read  such  books  as  he 
could  reach,  pondered  hard  questions,  and  turned  over 
in  his  mind  the  higher  problems  in  ethics  and  meta 
physics.  He  was  a  fair  arithmetician ;  understood  some 
thing  of  algebra  and  geometry.  He  was  interested  in 
works  on  political  economy  and  the  philosophy  of  legisla 
tion.  Books  of  history,  biography,  and  travel,  engaged 
him ;  but  his  thoughts  occupied  themselves  most  eagerly 
with  speculative  philosophy,  metaphysical  and  moral,  in 
the  current  literature  of  which  he  was  well  versed.  It  is 
interesting,  in  view  of  Theodore's  passion  for  natural 
objects,  to  know  that  his  taste  also  belonged  to  his  father. 
He  watched  the  heavens,  and  made  himself  acquainted 
with  the  movements  of  the  stars.  He  was  an  observer  of 
plants  too,  and  flowers,  and  had  laid  up  some  store  of 
information  in  natural  history.  It  is  needless  to  add,  that 
this  man  was  no  hearty  lover  of  poetry :  he  had  too  much 
understanding,  and  too  little  imagination.  He  read  books 
of  poetry,  as  he  read  any  books  he  could  lay  hands  on ; 
but  the  range  of  his  reading  throws  doubt  on  his  taste. 
One  who  can  read,  without  strongly-declared  preference, 
authors  so  various  as  Milton,  Dryden,  Shakspeare,  Pope, 
Trumbull,  and  Abraham  Cowley,  cannot  be  credited  with 
fondness  for  the  poetic  art. 

Mr.  Parker  had  a  strong  mind.  He  thought  for  him 
self,  and  passed  judgment  on  authorities.  Neither  Paley 


BIRTHPLACE  AND  PARENTAGE.  7 

nor  Edwards  was  to  his  liking,  —  Paley  because  "  he  left 
us  no  conscience  :  "  Edwards  probably  for  many  reasons ; 
among  others,  perhaps,  because  he  left  us  no  will ;  for  will 
was  a  strong  feature  in  the  Parkers.  He  was  an  avowed 
Unitarian  before  Unitarianism  as  a  system  was  preached, 
and  a  stout  Federalist  when  there  were  but  four  besides 
himself  in  the  whole  town.  Though  averse  to  contro 
versy,  naturally  silent  and  reserved,  he  had  a  gift  of 
speech ;  could  argue  forcibly  and  talk  well  on  occasion, 
even  with  something  like  eloquence.  His  diligent  study  of 
the  Bible  made  him  formidable  in  theological  debate.  He 
had  faith  in  mind  ;  took  a  practical  interest  in  the  town 
school ;  was  satisfied  with  none  but  good  teachers ;  and 
gave  thought  to  the  intellectual  and  moral  training  of  his 
children. 

He  was  an  upright  man,  —  just,  fearless,  humane; 
often  called  on  to  arbitrate  in  disputes,  administer  estates, 
and  assume  guardianship  of  orphans.  He  was  a  friend 
of  peace,  well-mannered  and  companionable,  with  a 
streak  of  humor  that  would  occasionally  break  into  mirth, 
but  never  passed  the  bounds  of  propriety.  No  profanity 
escaped  his  lips.  His  towns-people  had  a  saying,  "  John 
Parker  has  all  the  manners  of  the  neighborhood." 

The  mother,  the  daughter  of  a  well-to-do  farmer,  was  as 
remarkable  in  her  way  as  the  father  was  in  his.  Her 
maiden  name  was  Hannah  Stearns.  Her  son  describes 
her  as  "  a  handsome  woman,  of  slight  form,  flaxen  hair, 
blue  eyes,  and  a  singularly  fresh  and  delicate  complexion ; 
more  nervous  than  muscular."  She  had  a  family  tendency 
to  consumption,  which  increased  the  mildness  and  amiabil 
ity  of  her  disposition.  Her  education  was  inferior  to  her 
husband's,  her  mind  less  positive  and  independent.  She 
lived  more  in  her  feeling  and  imagination,  which  kept  their 
freshness  amid  the  homely  routine  of  domestic  life,  and 
through  the  cares  belonging  to  a  large  family.  Her  tem 
perament  was  poetical,  though  rather  fanciful  than  imagina- 


8  THEODORE  PARKER. 

tive.  Her  favorite  reading  was  the  Bible  and  Hymn-Book ; 
but  ballad  poetry  gave  her  great  delight,  and  her  mind 
was  stored  with  passages  of  beauty  from  English  literature. 
She  was  fond  of  romantic  stories  of  adventure  among  the 
Indians,  some  of  which  were  printed  in  books,  while  many 
others  floated  about  in  the  form  of  legend.  A  fine  memory 
enabled  her  to  repeat  these  wild  tales,  and  to  carry  about 
with  her  such  literary  stores  as  she  had.  The  duties  of  a 
large  and  exacting  household  —  many  children  and  no 
servants  —  afforded  little  leisure  for  mental  cultivation  ;  but 
what  she  had  was  improved.  Her  husband's  habit  of  read 
ing  aloud  in  the  evening  kept  her  supplied  with  food  for 
thought. 

She  was  of  a  loving  disposition  towards  those  about  her, 
tenderly  watchful  of  her  children,  thoughtful  of  the  aged, 
kind,  and,  as  far  as  her  means  allowed,  generous  to  the 
poor.  Her  rigid  economy  helped  her  in  this.  She  was 
religious  with  the  natural  religion  of  the  good  heart.  Her 
beliefs  came  to  her  through  feeling  rather  than  through 
reflection :  they  were  not  so  much  opinions  as  sentiments. 
She  was  no  theologian :  the  doctrines  of  the  Calvinistic 
creed,  which  her  strong-minded  husband  rejected  as  irra 
tional,  she  rejected  as  monstrous,  having  no  reasons  to  give 
for  her  aversion  that  were  so  cogent  as  the  aversion  itself. 
The  heart  was  its  own  witness  ;  conscience  was  the  oracle 
of  God  in  the  breast ;  gratitude  and  trust  were  interpreters 
to  her  of  the  ways  of  Providence.  With  the  simple  feeling 
of  a  gentle  spirit  that  comprehends  more  than  it  appre 
hends,  and  clings  where  definition  is  impossible,  she  knew 
the  Deity  as  an  omnipresent  Father,  the  joyous  and  lov 
ing  Soul  of  all  things,  animating  nature  and  enlightening 
mind,  filling  the  world  with  tides  of  energy  that  were  as 
vast  as  the  ocean,  and  bright  as  the  rivulets.  She,  too, 
seems  to  have  been  silent ;  a  woman  of  few  words,  either  of 
conversation  or  devotion  :  her  prayers  were  secret.  In  the 
moral  culture  of  her  children  she  took  great  interest,  which 


BIRTHPLACE  AND  PARENTAGE.  9 

she  expressed,  not  in  doctrinal  teaching  or  incessant  precept, 
but  in  wise  counsel  and  sympathy  as  occasion  came  up. 

This  information  respecting  his  parents  comes  from 
Theodore  himself,  —  an  affectionate,  grateful,  and  revering 
son,  who  loved  to  speak  of  his  parents ;  scarcely  ever  failed 
to  record  in  his  busy  journal  the  anniversaries  of  their 
birth  or  death,  and  never  made  such  record  without  drop 
ping  the  tenderest  words  on  their  memories.  If  it  be 
objected  that  filial  love  glorified  the  parental  qualities,  it 
must  be  granted  that  filial  love  is  the  best  interpreter  of 
them.  Affection  transfigures,  it  is  true  ;  but  then  affection 
understands.  We  cannot  trust  the  insight  of  love  when  it  is 
passionate  ;  but  we  can  rely  on  its  judgment  when  it  is  calm, 
like  that  of  a  noble  man  on  those  who  gave  him  birth. 

From  this  slight  sketch  it  is  plain  that  the  roots  of  The 
odore  Parker  reached  down  deep,  and  spread  out  wide. 
Their  fibres  coiled  round  sturdy  qualities ;  their  suckers 
found  out  hidden  fountains  of  water.  The  stock  was  vig 
orous,  and  could  be  counted  on  to  produce,  under  favora 
ble  conditions,  a  style  of  character  at  once  robust  and 
beautiful,  rich  in  some  of  the  strongest,  and  attractive  in 
some  of  the  sweetest,  elements  of  mind  and  heart.  What 
ever  else  the  Parkers  may  have  had  or  been  defective  in, 
they  had  force  of  will,  strength  of  understanding,  power 
of  moral  purpose,  steadfastness,  and  independence.  Some 
had  humor,  some  remarkable  intellectual  thirst,  one  at  least 
a  curious  knowledge  of  Eastern  tongues :  all  had  cour 
age  and  endurance.  The  combination  of  qualities  in  this 
father  and  mother  —  the  one  so  serious,  intelligent,  helpful, 
toilsome,  sincere  ;  the  other  so  tender,  earnest,  trustful,  and 
deep-hearted  —  contained  a  prophecy  of  rare  ability  and 
worth.  The  fruit  from  such  a  tree  ought  to  be  rich.  These 
prophecies  do  not  always  come  to  fulfilment.  How  far 
they  did  in  this  case  will  be  seen  as  the  story  goes  on. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOME  AND  BOYHOOD. 

THEODORE  PARKER  was  born  on  the  24th  of  August, 
1810.  He  was  the  youngest  of  eleven  children,  —  the 
tenth  being  five  years  older  than  he.  One  died  in  infancy : 
the  rest,  none  of  them  distinguished,  lived  to  be  useful 
men  and  women.  All  but  three  had  a  decided  fondness  for 
literature,  read  the  best  books  they  could  get,  and  copied 
the  portions  that  most  interested  them.  The  oldest  had 
gone  away  from  home  when  the  last  was  born ;  but  enough 
remained  to  fill  the  house.  John  Parker  was  poor  when 
he  married,  and  he  never  became  rich.  "  When  he  married 
Hannah  Stearns,"  says  Theodore  in  a  fragment  of  auto 
biography,  "  he  went  back  to  the  original  homestead  to  take 
care  of  his  mother,  while  he  should  support  his  hand 
some  young  wife  and  such  family  as  might  happen.  It 
was  the  day  of  small  things  :  he  wore  home-made  blue-yarn 
stockings  at  his  wedding,  and  brought  his  wife  home  over 
the  rough  winding  roads,  riding  in  the  saddle  his  tall  gray 
horse,  with  her  upon  a  pillion.  The  outfit  of  furniture  did 
not  bespeak  more  sumptuous  carriage :  the  common  plates 
were  of  wood ;  the  pitcher,  mugs,  teacups  and  saucers,  were 
of  coarse  earthenware  ;  while  the  great  carving  dishes 
were  of  thick,  well-kept  pewter.  The  holiday  service  '  for 
company '  was  of  the  same  material.  Yet  a  few  costly 
wine-glasses  were  not  wanting,  with  two  long-necked  de 
canters,  a  few  china  teacups  and  saucers  of  the  minutest 

10 


flO ME  AND  BOYHOOD.  II 

pattern,  and — the  pride  of  the  buffet — a  large  china  bowl. 
Besides,  the  young  bride  could  show  patchwork  bedquilts 
and  counterpanes,  and  a  pretty  store  of  linen  towels,  and 
a  tablecloth  of  the  same,  white  as  the  snow,  and  spun, 
wove,  and  bleached  by  her  own  laborious  hands ;  and  her 
father  raised  the  flax,  which  her  brother  pulled  and  rotted, 
and  broke  and  swingled,  and  hackled  and  combed.  Han 
nah  made  their  work  into  linen." 

"  In  my  earliest  childhood,"  the  autobiography  goes  on 
to  say,  "  the  family  at  home  consisted  of  my  father's  mother, 
more  than  eighty  at  my  birth,  —  a  tall,  stately,  proud-looking 
woman.  She  occupied  an  upper  chamber,  but  came  down 
stairs  to  dinner,  —  other  meals  she  took  in  her  own  room,  — 
and  sate  at  the  head  of  the  table,  on  the  woman's  side 
thereof,  opposite  my  father,  who  kept  up  the  Puritan  respect 
for  age,  —  always  granting  it  precedence.  She  busied 
herself  chiefly  in  knitting  and  puttering  about  the  room ; 
but  passed  the  Sundays  in  reading  the  large  Oxford  quarto 
Bible  of  her  husband,  bought  for  the  price  of  more  than 
one  load  of  hay  delivered  up  at  Boston.  She  had  also  the 
original  edition  of  the  Puritan  Hymn-Book  printed  at  Cam 
bridge,  which  was  much  in  her  hands.  She  read  the  news 
papers,  —  the  '  Columbian  Centinel,'  which  then  appeared 
twice  a  week ;  but  common  mundane  literature  she  seldom 
touched.  It  was  a  part  of  my  childish  business  to  carry  the 
drink  to  my  venerable  grandmother  twice  a  day,  —  at  eleven, 
A.M.,  and  four,  P.M.  :  this  was  flip  in  cool  weather,  and  in 
spring  and  summer  was  toddy  or  punch :  the  latter  was, 
however,  more  commonly  reserved  for  festive  occasions. 

"The  neighbors  about  us  were  farmers:  a  shoemaker 
lived  a  mile  off  on  one  side,  and  a  blacksmith  within  two 
miles  on  the  other.  These  were  generally,  perhaps  uni 
versally,  honest,  hard-working  men.  They  went  to  meeting 
Sundays,  morning  and  afternoon.  '  Their  talk  was  of  bul 
locks,  and  they  were  diligent  to  give  the  kine  fodder.'  In 
their  houses,  generally  neat  as  good  housewifery  could 


12  THEODORE  PARKER. 

make  them,  you  would  find  the  children's  school-books ; 
commonly  a  '  singing-book  '  ('  Billings's  Collection,'  or  some 
other) ;  perhaps  a  hymn-book ;  and  always  a  good  quarto 
Bible,  kept  in  the  best  room  ;  sometimes  another  Bible,  in 
herited  from  some  Puritan  ancestor :  these,  with  an  almanac 
hung  in  the  corner  of  the  kitchen-chimney,  made  up  the 
family  library.  Perhaps  a  weekly  or  semi-weekly  news 
paper  was  also  taken,  and  diligently  read.  Two  families, 
not  far  off,  were  exceptions  to  this  poverty  of  books :  I 
now  think  of  no  more.  Yet  now  and  then  the  life  of 
some  great  thief  like  Stephen  Burroughs,  or  some  pirate  or 
highwayman,  would  show  itself.  In  other  parts  of  Lexing 
ton,  —  *  on  the  great  road,'  or  '  in  the  middle  of  the  town,' 
—  perhaps  there  was  a  better  show  of  books.  I  only 
speak  of  my  immediate  neighborhood." 

The  family,  as  has  been  stated,  were  poor.  Their  means 
were  very  slender.  The  land  was  small  and  unproductive, 
the  tillage  necessarily  inexpensive.  The  soil  was  running 
out  The  products  were  corn  and  potatoes,  beans,  vege 
tables,  and  apples.  The  most  valuable  crop  was  peaches : 
sometimes  as  much  as  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  were  sold. 
The  meat  was  bought,  and  not  seldom  the  vegetables. 
The  chief  income  was  derived  from  the  shop  ;  but  that  was 
not  much :  a  rigid  economy  was  required  to  meet  the 
daily  needs.  Mr.  Parker  had  become  surety  for  a  brother 
who  failed,  and  his  portion  of  the  farm  was  sold  to  pay 
the  debt.  The  family  expenses  were  increased  by  sick 
ness.  The  taint  of  hereditary  disease  was  aggravated  by 
the  unwholesomeness  of  the  situation ;  and  it  was  rare 
that  one  or  more  of  the  household  did  not  require  medical 
treatment.  This  reduced  the  means  of  living  to  a  very 
scanty  sum,  and  left  no  margin  for  the  commonest  luxu 
ries.  Theodore  had,  as  a  child,  a  dangerous  attack  of 
typhoid-fever  which  threatened  his  life,  and  at  another 
time  a  severe  dysentery ;  but*  his  boyhood  was  generally 
healthy.  The  household  could  not  afford  to  harbor  un- 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  13 

productive  consumers :.  all  the  able-bodied  members  were 
drafted  for  toil.  When  scarcely  more  than  a  child,  Theo 
dore,  with  a  companion  hardly,  it  would  seem,  more  com 
petent  than  he,  was  sent  to  Boston  market  with  the  peach 
crop ;  and,  long  before  his  strength  was  adequate  to  such 
tasks,  he  was  employed  in  the  laying  of  a  stone  wall,  the 
strain  of  which,  he  used  to  say  afterwards,  was  a  perma 
nent  injury  to  his  constitution.  The  skill  acquired  in  the 
use  of  tools,  and  implements  of  husbandry,  was  no  com 
pensation  for  this  excessive  labor;  nor  was  the  physical 
strength  obtained  any  suitable  reward  for  the  unnatural 
exertions  by  which  it  was  won.  The  out-door  life  was 
good ;  but  the  conditions  of  it  were  bad.  The  causes  of 
much  of  the  ill  health  that  darkened  and  depressed  the 
years  of  manhood  may  be  traced  to  these  laborious  days  of 
childhood,  to  which  so  many  have  ascribed  the  apparent 
strength  of  his  constitution. 

But  to  return  to  the  autobiography  and  the  childhood. 
"  As  the  youngest  child,  it  may  be  supposed  I  was  treated 
with  uncommon  indulgence,  and  probably  received  a  good 
deal  more  than  a  tenth  part  of  the  affection  distributed. 
I  remember  often  to  have  heard  the  neighbors  say,  '  Why, 
Mis'  Parker,  you're  sp'ilin'  your  boy !  He  never  can  take 
care  of  himself  when  he  grows  up.'  To  which  she  re 
plied,  she  hoped  not,  and  kissed  my  flaxen  curls  anew. 

"  Among  the  earliest  things  I  remember  is  the  longing  I 
used  to  feel  to  have  the  winter  gone,  and  to  see  the  great 
snow-bank  —  sometimes,  when  new-fallen,  as  high  as  the 
top  of  the  kitchen-window  —  melt  away  in  front  of  the 
house.  I  loved,  though,  to  run  in  the  snow  barefoot,  and 
with  only  my  night-shirt  on,  for  a  few  minutes  at  a  time. 
When  the  snow  was  gone,  the  peculiar  smell  of  the  ground 
seemed  to  me  delicious.  The  first  warm  days  of  spring, 
which  brought  the  blue-birds  to  their  northern  home,  and 
tempted  the  bees  to  try  short  flights,  in  which  they  presently 
dropped  on  the  straw  my  provident  father  had  strewn  for 


14  THEODORE  PARKER. 

them  about  their  hive,  filled  me  with  the  deepest  delight. 
In  the  winter  I  was  limited  to  the  kitchen,  where  I  could 
build  cob-houses,  or  form  little  bits  of  wood  into  fantastic 
shapes.  Sometimes  my  father  or  one  of  my  brothers 
would  take  me  to  the  shop,  where  he  pursued  his  toilsome 
work ;  or  to  the  barn,  where  the  horse,  the  oxen,  and  the 
cows  were  a  perpetual  pleasure.  But  when  the  snow  was 
gone,  and  the  ground  dry,  I  had  free  range.  I  used  to  sit 
or  lie  on  the  ground  in  a  dry  and  sheltered  spot,  and 
watch  the  great  yellow  clouds  of  April  that  rolled  their 
huge  shapes  far  above  my  head,  filling  my  eye  with  their 
strange,  fantastic,  beautiful,  and  ever-changing  forms,  and 
my  mind  with  wonder  at  what  they  were,  and  how  they 
came  there. 

"  But  the  winter  itself  was  not  without  its  in-door  pleas 
ures,  even  for  a  little  fellow  in  brown  homespun  petticoats. 
The  uncles  and  aunts  came  in  their  sleighs  full  of  cousins, 
some  of  whom  were  of  my  own  age,  to  pass  a  long  after 
noon  and  evening,  not  without  abundant  good  cheer,  and 
a  fire  in  '  the  other  room,'  as  the  humble  parlor  was  mod 
estly  named.  They  did  not  come  without  a  great  apple, 
or  a  little  bag  of  shag-barks,  or  some  other  tid-bit,  for 
'  Mis'  Parker's  baby ; '  for  so  the  youngest  was  called  long 
after  he  ceased  to  merit  the  name.  Nay,  father  and  mother 
often  returned  these  visits,  and  sometimes  took  the  baby 
with  them ;  because  the  mother  did  not  like  to  leave  the 
darling  at  home ;  or  perhaps  she  wished  to  show  how  stout 
and  strong  her  eleventh  child  had  come  into  the  world." 

The  child  did  not  increase  in  beauty  as  he  increased  in 
years.  They  who  remember  him  in  his  young  days  de 
scribe  him  as  rather  under  the  usual  size,  clumsily  made, 
ungainly  and  inactive,  but  as  arch  and  roguish  in  dis 
position.  The  bashfulness,  and  sense  of  awkwardness,  he 
probably  recovered  from ;  but  the  ungainliness  of  move 
ment  remained  with  him  always. 

The  thirst  for  knowledge  appeared  in  him  early ;  but  nei- 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  15 

ther  so  early  nor  so  surprisingly  as  his  consciousness  of 
right  and  wrong.  Two  or  three  interesting  examples  of 
this  he  recalls  from  his  childhood :  "  In  my  fourth  year, 
my  father  had  a  neighbor,  Deacon  Stearns,  come  to  kill  a 
calf.  My  father  would  not  do  it  himself,  as  other  farmers 
did.  I  was  not  allowed  to  see  the  butchery ;  but,  after  it 
was  all  over,  the  deacon,  who  had  lost  all  his  children, 
asked  me  whom  I  loved  best.  'Papa.'  —  'What!  better 
than  yourself?'  —  'Yes,  sir.'  —  'But,'  said  my  father,  'if 
one  of  us  must  take  a  whipping,  which  would  you  rather 
should  have  the  blows  ? '  I  said  nothing,  but  wondered 
and  wondered  why  I  should  prefer  that  he  should  have  the 
blows,  and  not  I.  The  fact  was  plain,  and  plainly  selfish, 
and,  it  seemed  to  me,  wicked.  Yet  I  could  not  help  the 
feeling.  It  tormented  me  for  weeks  in  my  long  clothes." 
Another  instance  must  not  be  omitted,  though  it  has  been 
often  quoted  for  its  striking  beauty :  it  is  told  at  the  close 
of  the  "Autobiography."  "When  a  little  boy  in  petti 
coats,  in  my  fourth  year,  one  fine  day  in  spring  my  father 
led  me  by  the  hand  to  a  distant  part  of  the  farm,  but  soon 
sent  me  home  alone.  On  the  way  I  had  to  pass  a  little 
'  pond-hole,'  then  spreading  its  waters  wide.  A  rhodora  in 
full  bloom  —  a  rare  plant  in  my  neighborhood,  and  which 
grew  only  in  that  locality  —  attracted  my  attention,  and 
drew  me  to  the  spot.  I  saw  a  little  spotted  tortoise  sunning 
himself  in  the  shallow  water  at  the  root  of  the  flaming 
shrub.  I  lifted  the  stick  I  had  in  my  hand  to  strike  the 
harmless  reptile :  for,  though  I  had  never  killed  any  crea 
ture,  yet  I  had  seen  other  boys  out  of  sport  destroy  birds, 
squirrels,  and  the  like ;  and  I  felt  a  disposition  to  follow 
their  wicked  example.  But  all  at  once  something  checked 
my  little  arm,  and  a  voice  within  me  said  clear  and  loud, 
'  It  is  wrong.'  I  held  my  uplifted  stick  in  wonder  at  the 
new  emotion  —  the  consciousness  of  an  involuntary  but  in 
ward  check  upon  my  actions  —  till  the  tortoise  and  the 
rhodora  both  vanished  from  my  sight.  I  hastened  home, 


1 6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

told  the  tale  to  my  mother,  and  asked  what  it  was  that 
told  me  it  was  wrong.  She  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eye 
with  her  apron,  and,  taking  me  in  her  arms,  said,  '  Some 
men  call  it  conscience ;  but  I  prefer  to  call  it  the  voice  of 
God  in  the  soul  of  man.  If  you  listen  and  obey  it,  then 
it  will  speak  clearer  and  clearer,  and  always  guide  you 
right ;  but  if  you  turn  a  deaf  ear,  or  disobey,  then  it  will 
fade  out  little  by  little,  and  leave  you  all  in  the  dark  and 
without  a  guide.  Your  life  depends  on  your  heeding  this 
little  voice.'  She  went  her  way,  careful  and  troubled 
about  many  things,  but  doubtless  pondered  them  in  her 
motherly  heart ;  while  I  went  off  to  wonder  and  to  think 
it  over  in  my  poor  childish  way.  But  I  am  sure  no  event 
in  my  life  has  made  so  deep  and  lasting  an  impression  on 
me."  The  grateful  man  tells  this  story  to  show  "  the  nice 
and  delicate  care  she  took  of  my  moral  culture."  But  it 
shows  with  equal  clearness  the  child's  moral  sensibility, 
not  rare,  we  may  hope,  at  that  tender  age,  but  certainly  rare 
associated  with  so  much  thoughtfulness,  curiosity,  and  sin 
cerity.  Not  that  the  feeling  came,  but  that  it  became  reflec 
tion,  and  deepened  into  character,  is  the  remarkable  thing. 
The  religious  sentiment  was  as  quick  in  germinating 
as  the  moral,  and  had  the  same  conditions  in  its  favor. 
The  father  was  a  religious  man  of  the  grave,  earnest  sort, 
without  much  emotion.  He  went  to  church,  taught  his  chil 
dren  the  Ten  Commandments,  encouraged  their  learning 
hymns,  and  would  have  them  say  their  prayers  when  they 
went  to  bed  :  but  he  read  the  Bible  with  his  understanding  • 
omitted,  toward  the  close  of  his  life,  the  grace  before 
meat ;  and  in  his  old  age,  when  too  deaf  to  hear  the  preach 
er's  sermon,  staid  at  home  and  read  novels.  The  mother 
had  a  sweet,  fresh,  instinctive  devoutness.  She  belonged 
to  "  the  church,"  and  had  the  children  duly  christened  in 
presence  of  the  neighbors.  Theodore's  turn  came  when 
he  was  about  two  years  and  a  half  old,  he  being  the  last 
and  the  pet  child.  The  occasion  was  made  impressive  by 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  17 

a  larger  concourse  of  friends  than  usual.  The  ceremony 
was  by  sprinkling  or  touching  the  forehead  with  water. 
The  child  prefigured  the  man,  not  by  the  idle  wail  so  com 
mon  at  these  rituals,  but  by  an  outspoken  protest,  grounded 
in  apprehension,  possibly,  rather  than  in  reason,  but  suffi 
ciently  emphatic  to  be  remembered.  A  child  of  two  years 
and  a  half  could  hardly  have  speculated  about  the  ceremony 
he  was  undergoing,  or  intelligently  wanted  to  know  what 
it  all  meant,  or  for  what  purpose  it  was  done  :  but  the  "  Oh, 
don't !  "  was  something  more  than  a  cry  of  fear ;  there  was 
character  in  it ;  it  revealed  the  spirit  that  afterwards  made 
the  man  protest  against  so  many  things,  on  the  ground 
that  they  did  not  stand  in  reason. 

But  if  the  sharp,  challenging  disposition  was  thus  for 
ward,  the  devout  tendency  was  in  no  way  behind.  "  Reli 
gion,"  he  said  in  a  sermon  quoted  by  Mr.  Weiss,  "  was  the 
inheritance  my  mother  gave  me  in  my  birth,  —  gave  me  in 
her  teachings.  Many  sons  have  been  better  born  than  I : 
few  have  had  so  good  a  mother.  I  mention  these  things 
to  show  you  how  I  came  to  have  the  views  of  religion  that 
I  have  now.  My  head  is  not  more  natural  to  my  body, 
has  not  more  grown  with  it,  than  my  religion  out  of  my  soul 
and  with  it.  With  me  religion  was  not  carpentry,  something 
built  up  of  dry  wood  from  without ;  but  it  was  growth,  — 
growth  of  a  germ  in  my  soul." 

At  an  age  when  most  children  are  amusing  themselves 
with  their  first  fairy  tales,  he  was  capable  of  "spirit 
ual  experiences."  He  was  not  seven  years  old  when  the 
doctrine  of  everlasting  damnation  plunged  his  soul  in 
anguish,  which  made  the  hours  of  one  night,  if  no  more, 
so  wretched,  that  for  years  he  could  hardly  think  of  the 
horror  without  shuddering.  But  such  passages  were  not 
frequent,  nor  did  they  last  long.  There  is  no  evidence  of 
morbid  tendency  at  this  time  ;  none  of  severe  inward  con 
flict.  His  nature,  if  sensitive,  was  buoyant,  and  soon  sur 
mounted  the  mental  difficulties  that  came  in  his  way.  The 

2* 


l8  THEODORE  PARKER. 

inherited  predisposition  to  consumption  may  occasionally 
have  caused  a  lassitude  of  feeling ;  the  hardness  of  his 
lot  may  a  little  further  have  depressed  his  animal  spirits : 
but  his  mind  was  not  self-tormenting.  Whenever  the  man 
recalled  his  childhood,  the  recollection  was  pleasant. 
"  However  it  may  be  with  the  natural  man,"  he  used  to  say, 
"the  natural  boy  has  no  fear  of  God."  "I  have  swam 
in  clear,  sweet  waters  all  my  days,v  he  told  the  Progressive 
Friends.  "  From  the  days  of  earliest  boyhood,  when  I 
went  stumbling  through  the  grass  '  as  merry  as  a  May  bee,' 
up  to  the  gray-bearded  manhood  of  this  time,  there  is  none 
but  has  left  me  honey  in  the  hive  of  memory,  that  I  now 
feed  on  for  present  delight.  When  I  recall  the  years  of 
boyhood,  youth,  early  manhood,  I  am  filled  with  a  sense 
of  sweetness  and  wonder  that  such  little  things  can  make 
a  mortal  so  exceedingly  rich."  Mr.  Parker's  hilarious 
humor  was  of  a  spontaneous  and  racy  flavor,  that  could 
hardly  consist  with  a  morbid  temperament ;  and  this  humor 
displayed  itself  in  his  earliest  years.  The  elements  of 
his  being  were  healthy  ;  the  struggles  were  incidental,  and 
served  to  make  the  healthfulness  robust.  A  great  capa 
city  for  sorrow  does  not  imply  an  ever-present  fact  of  sor 
row.  That  the  capacity  was  there  will  be  plain  enough  as 
the  career  flows  on ;  that  the  fact  was  present  too,  and  often, 
admits  of  no  doubt :  but  no  melancholy  cast  prevented  the 
natural  wholesomeness  from  vindicating  itself,  and  com 
ing  out  easily  victorious  over  foes  that  held  no  ground  in 
the  citadel,  but  only  stormed  the  outer  walls. 

The  school-days  began  early,  when  the  boy  was  barely 
six  years  old.  The  plain  district  schoolhouse  was  a  mile 
distant  by  the  road,  but  was  brought  nearer  by  a  short  cut 
across  the  fields  and  over  the  brook.  It  was  kept  by  one 
teacher  at  a  time,  in  summer  and  in  winter :  twelve  or  four 
teen  weeks  in  winter,  from  December ;  four  months,  or  six 
teen  weeks,  from  the  middle  of  May  to  the  middle  of  Sep 
tember,  in  spring  and  summer.  In  seed-time  and  harvest  the 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  19 

children  could  not  be  spared  ;  nor  could  money  be  spared  to 
maintain  a  teacher  the  full  year.  The  summer  school  was 
kept  for  the  smaller  children,  whose  services  were  not  re 
quired  on  the  farm.  Theodore  attended  only  in  winter  from 
his  seventh  or  eighth  year.  The  summer  teacher  was  com 
monly  a  woman.  Mary  Smith,  or  "  Aunt  Pattie  "  as  she  was 
called,  was  the  first  who  had  charge  of  our  young  friend's  in 
struction.  The  male  teacher  whose  name  is  first  mentioned 
was  John  Hastings.  He  is  not  highly  praised,  either  as  schol 
ar,  teacher,  or  disciplinarian,  by  one  of  Mr.  Parker's  contem 
poraries  ;  nor  had  he  any  vivid  recollections,  in  after-life,  of 
his  distinguished  pupil.  But  Theodore  remembered  him ; 
and  one  evening  in  Brooklyn,  after  a  lecture,  the  old  teacher 
was  heartily  greeted  by  the  speaker  whom  he  had  been 
listening  to  for  the  first  time,  and  was  wittily  reminded  of 
an  incident  in  their  school-relations  which  had  quite  escaped 
his  memory.  Hastings  tells  the  story,  adding  that  it  was 
enjoyed  by  a  good  many  loiterers  besides  himself.  The 
rage  among  the  boys,  it  seems,  was  for  pop-guns,  —  an  instru 
ment  made  usually  of  a  quill,  and  loaded  with  a  piece  of 
potato  :  the  pushing  in  of  a  rammer  at  the  larger  end  of 
the  tube  compressed  the  air,  and  the  potato  came  out  at 
the  small  end  with  a  report  loud  enough  to  startle  a  large 
room.  It  was  a  harmless  weapon,  the  bite  whereof  was  in  the 
bark.  Theodore  procured  from  his  elder  brother  a  pop-gun 
of  uncommon  caliber,  and  carried  it  to  school.  The  weap 
on  being  new  and  untried,  the  hush  of  the  school-room 
tempting,  and  the  master's  back  suggestive  of  opportunity, 
the  experiment  on  sound  was  then  and  there  hazarded.  In 
an  instant,  all  heads  were  raised ;  the  master  faced  about 
with  inquisitive  eyes  :  but  at  that  instant  no  boy  was  study 
ing  so  hard  as  Parker  ;  he  was  devouring  his  book !  The 
success  of  the  first  experiment  inspired  a  second :  but  this 
time  the  master  looked  up  a  second  too  soon ;  the  culprit 
was  detected  in  the  very  act.  There  was  a  challenge,  a 
summons,  a  reprimand  ;  the  weapon  was  confiscated,  and 
order  was  restored. 


20  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  New-England  district  schools  were  not  graded :  the 
scholars  were  of  all  ages,  from  five  to  twenty.  The  teach 
ers  were  young  men  from  some  neighboring  college,  who 
eked  out  their  expenses  by  teaching  in  vacations,  and  for 
as  much  longer  as  the  authorities  permitted,  or  their  neces 
sities  required.  The  instruction  was  never  systematic,  and 
almost  always  thin.  The  amount  accomplished  depended, 
in  greatest  measure,  on  the  capacity  and  interest  of  the 
instructor :  and  neither  was  apt  to  be  great ;  for  the  work 
was  undertaken  by  raw  minds  half  furnished,  and  was 
done  incidentally,  as  a  make-shift,  by  young  men  who  had 
no  thought  of  making  teaching  their  profession.  The  com 
pensation  was  small,  —  twenty-eight  dollars  a  month,  the 
teacher  boarding  himself.  Little  besides  the  elements 
was  attempted.  No  regular  instruction  was  given  in  the 
arts  of  composition  or  declamation.  The  books  in  use 
were  Murray's  English  Grammar,  Adams's  Arithmetic, 
Whelpley's  Compend  of  History;  for  advanced  classes, 
Blake's  Philosophy,  Comstock's  Chemistry,  Colburn's 
Algebra,  Playfair's  Euclid,  Blair's  Rhetoric. 

In  1820,  William  Hoar  White,  afterwards  a  Unitarian 
minister,  then  a  student  in  Brown  University,  twenty-five 
years  old,  succeeded  Mr.  Hastings,  and  produced  a  bene 
ficial  change  in  the  school.  Theodore  was  then  old 
enough  to  interest  him  ;  and  he  never  ceased  to  be  grate 
ful  to  the  firm,  kind,  sympathetic  friend  who  led  him  on 
past  the  prescribed  line  of  study,  and  started  him  in  Latin 
and  Greek.  White  taught  two  winters.  Theodore  felt 
his  loss  severely ;  but  it  was  made  good  by  his  successor, 
George  Fiske,  also  a  student  of  Brown  University,  who 
taught  three  winters.  Both  these  young  men  were  pro 
cured  by  Mr.  Parker,  who  was  acquainted  with  relatives 
of  theirs  in  Lexington.  To  these  two  men  the  volume  on 
"Theism  and  Atheism"  was  dedicated  in  1853,  "with 
gratitude  for  early  instruction  received  at  their  hands." 
Mr.  Fiske  brought  some  books  from  the  college  library 
that  made  him  doubly  welcome  to  the  juvenile  student. 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  21 

This  desultory  kind  of  teaching  went  on  ten  years  for 
about  three  months  each  winter,  and  two  summer  terms,  — 
equivalent  to  something  like  three  years  of  continuous 
instruction ;  though  not  as  effective,  by  any  means,  as 
three  years  of  continuous  instruction  would  have  been. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  went  for  a  single  quarter  to  Mr. 
Huntington's  school,  called  the  "  Academy,"  at  Lexington. 
This  costly  indulgence  —  the  expense,  we  are  informed  by 
the  letter  of  a  friend,  was  four  dollars  —  was  afforded  by 
the  lad's  self-denial  in  foregoing  the  accomplishment  of 
dancing,  which  the  boys  and  girls  of  his  age  were  culti 
vating,  in  view  of  social  festivities  that  were  the  ruling 
passion  about  that  time.  Between  the  culture  of  the  two 
extremities,  Theodore,  on  consideration,  chose  that  of  the 
head.  At  the  Academy  he  pushed  his  studies  into  algebra, 
and  extended  his  acquaintance  with  Latin  and  Greek.  At 
the  age  of  seventeen  he  began  to  teach  himself. 

When  he  was  a  little  boy,  an  incident  occurred  that 
made  a  deep  impression  on  him.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
school,  trudging  alone  across  the  fields.  Suddenly  he  was 
accompanied  by  an  old  man  with  long  white  beard  and  a 
patriarchal  aspect,  who  talked  with  him  on  the  way,  told 
him  what  a  bright  boy  might  do  and  be,  making  his  heart 
burn  with  strong  emotion,  and  then  disappeared  as  unac 
countably  as  he  came.  Theodore  often  alluded  to  this 
adventure  in  after-life  in  a  manner  that  betrayed  a  half- 
superstitious  belief  in  the  visitation.  Who  the  person  was, 
he  could  not  guess :  no  inhabitant  of  the  neighborhood  j 
he  knew  them  all.  No  stranger  had  been  seen  in  the  quiet 
village.  Be  he  who  he  might  be,  the  meeting  fell  in  with 
the  boy's  early  consciousness  that  he  had  a  destiny.  Was 
it  the  consciousness  that  made  the  meeting  significant  ? 

The  boy  was  distinguished  as  a  scholar  by  his  thirst  for 
knowledge  and  his  memory.  Both  were  remarkable.  He 
read  miscellaneously  and  every  thing.  He  was  always 
studying,  in  school  and  out.  Mr.  White  set  evening  les- 


22  THEODORE  PARKER. 

sons :  Theodore  learned  them,  and  wanted  more.  He 
had  extra  studies,  and  was  not  satisfied.  In  the  sum 
mer  noons,  when  the  other  hands  indulged  in  a  siesta 
under  the  trees,  he  refreshed  his  mind  with  books.  The 
winter  mornings  were  too  short,  and  domestic  duties  left 
him  no  leisure ;  but  the  winter  evenings  and  the  summer 
mornings  were  long,  and  the  hours  were  faithfully  used. 
No  boy  in  the  school  could  match  him  either  in  quantity 
or  quality  of  performance.  But  one  pupil  approached 
him ;  and  that  one  was  a  girl,  Marianne  Smith  by  name. 
The  extent  of  his  reading  was  astonishing.  Whatever 
Mr.  Fiske  could  lend,  whatever  the  social  library  would 
afford,  he  devoured.  The  father  brought  home  nothing 
that  the  boy  did  not  appropriate.  If  the  cautious  parent 
put  a  volume  away  on  a  high  shelf,  judging  it  for  some 
reason  unfit  for  youthful  eyes,  the  eyes  espied  it,  and  the 
hands  reached  it  the  instant  the  workshop  absorbed  the 
parental  form.  Every  thing  was  fish  that  came  into  his 
net.  Before  he  was  eight  he  had  read  Homer  and  Plutarch 
(in  translations  of  course),  Rollin's  Ancient  History,  —  a 
common  book,  —  and  all  the  other  volumes  of  history  and 
poetry  that  circumstances  afforded.  Books  of  travel  and 
adventure  were  welcomed,  and  assimilated  too ;  for  his 
parents  made  him  give  an  account  of  every  volume  he 
read  before  he  could  have  another.  At  the  Academy  he 
went  through  Colburn's  Algebra  in  three  weeks.  Nor 
were  his  studies  confined  to  books.  The  stars  interested 
him;  the  trees,  the  shrubs,  the  flowers  of  the  neighbor 
hood,  the  plants  in  cultivated  gardens  he  visited,  the 
foreign  fruits  he  saw  in  the  Boston  market,  the  husks  and 
leaves  that  came  wrapped  about  bales  of  merchandise, 
tea-chests,  and  packages  from  distant  parts  of  the  world, 
attracted  his  attention.  The  formation  of  the  hills,  their 
direction  and  slope  •  the  minerals,  rocks,  stones  that  lay 
about,  or  that  were  brought  from  a  distance,  —  excited 
his  curiosity.  The  means  of  satisfying  it  were  few.  A 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  23 

copy  of  Evelyn's  "  Sylva,"  and  Morse's  large  Geography, 
did  not  go  very  far ;  but  they  told  something,  and  a  perse 
vering  sagacity  did  what  was  done  beside.  His  memory 
—  an  inheritance  from  his  mother,  which  he  treasured  and 
kept  bright  by  diligent  care  —  held  fast  whatever  the 
rapacious  mind  received.  He  had  his  mother's  aptitude 
for  committing  verses ;  could  repeat  a  song  from  hearing 
it  once,  the  Sunday  hymn  while  the  minister  read  it.  He 
could  carry  several  hundred  lines  in  his  memory,  so  as  to 
recite  them  at  a  sitting.  In  mature  years,  when  his  mind 
was  burdened  with  stores,  he  could  appropriate  as  many 
as  a  hundred  and  fifty  lines  of  blank-verse  after  a  single 
reading.  It  was  his  custom,  when  walking  with  a  com 
panion,  to  recite  from  poems  like  Wordsworth's  "  Excur 
sion  "  till  his  friend  begged  for  mercy.  He  had  the 
political  events  of  the  country  at  his  tongue's  end  while 
yet  a  schoolboy ;  and  talked  so  intelligently  about  them, 
that  the  political  gossips  of  the  town,  assembled  in  Dud 
ley's  Tavern,  drew  him  out  for  the  sake  of  hearing  his 
opinion.  The  gift  of  expression  came  to  him  as  readily 
as  the  gift  of  acquisition.  The  disease  of  verse-making 
attacked  him  when  he  was  eight  years  old.  His  first  com 
position  on  the  "  starry  heavens  "  disappointed  his  teacher, 
Mr.  Fiske,  by  being  too  short.  He  was  an  impassioned 
declaimer ;  spoke  with  much  applause,  at  a  public  exhibi 
tion,  a  piece  from  Scott's  "  Marmion ; "  and  showed  the 
power  of  mimicry  that  afterwards  made  him  so  amusing 
and  so  formidable  by  impersonating  a  Catholic  priest  in 
some  juvenile  theatricals. 

Such  lads  are  commonly  more  popular  with  their  teach 
ers  than  with  their  comrades.  This  was  hardly  the  case 
with  Theodore.  His  kindness,  and  love  of  fun,  disarmed 
the  jealousy  his  superiority  might  have  excited,  and  over 
came  the  awe  his  gravity  would  naturally  inspire.  It  cost 
him  no  effort  to  be  sportive.  In  play-time  he  could  play 
with  the  most  frolicsome,  after  a  hearty,  robustious  man- 


24  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ner  that  was  a  little  too  much  for  some  of  his  companions. 
He  was  never  graceful,  —  never,  in  fact,  any  thing  but 
uncouth ;  but  he  was  never  tyrannical.  He  loved  fair  play : 
the  bullies  found  him  a  formidable  opponent.  We  do  not 
hear  that  he  had  intimates  ;  there  was  too  much  of  him  for 
that :  but  we  do  not  hear  that  he  had  enemies.  If  he  was 
conscious,  as  he  must  have  been,  of  remarkable  force  of 
character,  he  did  not  make  others  cruelly  sensible  of  it.  In 
the  last  year  of  school  he  was  much  respected,  and  had  great 
influence  among  the  boys.  They  came  to  him  for  explana 
tions  of  difficult  points,  and  referred  their  disputes  to  him. 

The  testimonies  to  his  moral  character  are  all  of  one 
tenor.  He  was  modest,  pure,  single-minded,  frank,  and 
true.  If  Theodore  Parker  said  a  thing,  it  was  believed  by 
young  and  by  old.  A  quick,  eager  temper  would  have  led 
him  astray  into  acts  of  violence,  if  he  did  not  have  it 
under  habitual  control :  but  it  could  not  have  betrayed 
him  into  vicious  indulgence;  for  there  was  no  taint  of 
sensuality  in  him.  His  thoughts  were  busy  with  literature ; 
his  appetite  was  for  knowledge :  his  warmth  of  feeling 
came  to  re-enforce  the  steadfastness  of  his  conscience,  not 
to  weaken  it.  He  was  open  and  unselfish.  The  bent  of 
his  nature  was  towards  nobleness.  In  the  humbler  virtues 
of  toil  and  economy  his  whole  life  was  a  school.  He 
wanted  more  books  than  his  father  could  give  him ;  and 
to  work  for  them  was  the  only  way  to  obtain  them.  His 
father  supplied  him  with  his  first  Latin  grammar :  the  Latin 
dictionary  he  paid  for  with  the  proceeds  of  a  whortleberry 
excursion  when  he  was  twelve  years  old.  The  well-worn 
volume  had  its  place  in  the  noble  library  in  Boston,  which, 
but  for  the  purpose  displayed  on  that  whortleberry  expe 
dition,  would  have  had  no  existence.  It  was  a  humble 
tome  ;  but  it  was  the  corner-stone  of  the  structure. 

His  career  of  teaching  began  at  seventeen.  The  first 
winter,  that  of  1827,  he  took  charge  of  the  district  school 
in  Quincy  j  the  second,  in  North  Lexington ;  the  third,  in 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  25 

Concord  ;  and  the  fourth,  in  Waltham.  Farmers  spared 
their  boys  in  the  winter,  reckoning  that  their  labor  was 
about  equivalent  to  their  board ;  but  in  summer,  if  they 
went  away  from  home  while  under  age,  they  must  pay  the 
wages  of  a  substitute.  This  he  did.  When  he  left  home 
finally,  two  years  before  his  majority,  he  hired  a  cousin  to 
do  his  work.  During  the  two  years  previous  he  worked 
himself  like  a  field-hand  on  the  farm,  digging,  ploughing, 
haying,  laying  stone-wall,  helping  his  broad-shouldered 
father  in  his  shop,  mending  wheels,  repairing  wagons, 
making  pumps,  doing  miscellaneous  jobs  in  wood-work, 
with  as  much  conscience  as  he  studied,  if  with  less 
joy.  He  worked  as  if  toil  was  his  whole  occupation ;  he 
studied  as  if  study  was  his  whole  delight.  The  book  was 
always  near  to  fill  up  the  crevices  of  time.  There  were 
precious  moments  in  the  morning.  If  the  evening  was 
occupied,  he  extorted  an  hour  or  two  from  the  night. 
Rainy  days  were  godsends. 

At  seventeen,  militia  duties  began ;  and  in  these  he  was 
as  active,  prompt,  and  efficient  as  in  all  the  rest.  There 
was  always  a  touch  of  the  warlike  spirit  in  him.  The  two 
guns  in  his  Exeter-place  library  were  no  vain  symbols. 
The  military  reputation  of  the  ancestor  who  was  at  Lex 
ington  Common,  and  chafed  under  inaction  at  Bunker 
Hill,  was  dear  to  his  heart.  Life  was  a  warfare,  the  out 
ward  symbols  whereof  were  as  significant  as  they  were  to 
the  apostle,  who  charged  his  followers  to  put  on  the 
breastplate  of  righteousness,  and  to  take  the  sword  of 
the  Spirit.  He  rose  to  rank  in  the  company :  clerk  he 
certainly  was,  perhaps  lieutenant :  whether  he  rose  to 
higher  authority  is  less  certain. 

With  all  this,  Theodore  added  much  to  the  social  life  of 
the  household.  His  talk  was  copious  and  entertaining, 
his  jokes  telling,  his  fun  exuberant.  His  aifectionate- 
ness  ran  over  to  the  domestic  animals :  he  had  names  for 
the  cows  ;  he  made  the  cattle  hold  imaginary  conversations 
3 


26  THEODORE  PARKER. 

together ;  rendered  the  habits  of  the  dumb  creatures  into 
parables,  thus  adopting  them  into  the  life  of  the  home. 

Of  his  early  teaching  little  record  is  preserved.  That 
he  worked  hard  at  his  calling  need  not  be  said.  Every 
spare  hour  that  could  be  snatched  from  the  day  was  de 
voted  to  his  own  studies.  At  Waltham  a  young  woman 
wished  to  learn  French.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  lan 
guage,  but,  obtaining  the  necessary  elemental  books, 
soon  mastered  the  rudiments,  and  became  learner  and 
teacher  at  once.  In  North  Lexington  his  monthly  salary 
was  twenty-five  dollars,  out  of  which  he  paid  his  substitute 
at  the  farm,  met  his  board-bill,  and  provided  himself  with 
clothing  (it  did  not  cost  much) :  the  rest  went  for  books, 
which  he  bought  at  second-hand  prices.  There  was  in 
Waltham  an  impression,  that,  as  a  teacher,  he  was  unrea 
sonably  exacting  in  his  requirements,  and  absolute  in  his 
discipline.  It  is  quite  possible :  his  faith  in  human  capa 
city  was  always  large  ;  his  anticipations  were  always  san 
guine.  What  he  demanded  of  himself  he  expected  from 
others,  and  drew  out  if  he  could.  Schoolboys  are  seldom 
grateful  to  the  master  who  sets  long  lessons,  and  insists  on 
correct  recitals :  even  school  committees  are  willing  to 
pass  over  defects  that  promote  a  pleasant  state  of  feeling 
among  the  boys  and  girls. 

One  summer  day,  in  August,  1830,  —  the  day  before  his 
birthday,  —  he  went  away,  telling  no  one  whither  he  was 
going.  His  father  had  given  him  leave  of  absence  from 
morning  till  night.  He  walked  to  Cambridge,  was  exam 
ined,  passed  examination,  walked  home,  and  told  his 
father,  lying  in  his  bed,  that  he  had  entered  Harvard  Col 
lege.  If  the  old  man  wondered  in  the  morning  where  his 
son  was  going,  he  wondered  more  at  night  on  learning 
where  he  had  been.  "  But,  Theodore,  I  cannot  afford  it." 
— "  Father,  it  shall  cost  you  nothing.  I  will  stay  at 
home,  and  keep  up  with  my  class."  And  this  he  did  for  a 
year,  working  on  the  farm  as  usual,  pushing  on  his  studies 


HOME  AND  BOYHOOD.  27 

perseveringly,  and  only  going  to  Cambridge  to  be  exam 
ined.  The  course  at  Harvard  was  not,  fifty  years  ago, 
what  it  is  now ;  and  Parker  found  no  difficulty  in  distan 
cing  his  class  in  the  appointed  curriculum,  besides  doing  a 
vast  deal  of  miscellaneous  reading  in  general  literature. 
Being  a  non-resident,  and  his  own  tutor,  he  paid  no  tui 
tion-fees,  and  was  not  entitled  to  a  degree.  Four  years 
later,  he  might  have  had  one  by  paying  the  arrears  of 
tuition ;  but  that  was  beyond  his  means.  He  was  not 
enrolled  among  the  regular  Harvard  graduates  until 
1840,  when  the  degree  of  A.M.  was  conferred  upon  him, 
as  a  mark  of  honor,  at  the  instance  of  men  who  thought 
it  a  shame  that  so  distinguished  a  mind  should  be  unrec 
ognized.  The  point  required  urging ;  for  the  quality  of 
the  mind  was  not  altogether  such  as  Cambridge  approved ; 
and  some  were  unwilling  that  so  pronounced  a  rationalist 
as  he  was  coming  to  be  thought  should  be  an  acknowl 
edged  son  of  Harvard  College. 

That  day  in  August  was  never  forgotten.  The  recur 
rence  of  its  anniversary  is  found  frequently  recorded  in 
the  journal,  always  in  tender,  grateful  words,  accompa 
nied  with  expressions  of  thanksgiving  and  prayer.  Five 
months  before  he  reached  the  year  of  manhood  he  went 
away  from  his  father's  house,  his  own  guide  and  master,  — 
left  it,  as  in  primitive  times  sailors  took  leave  when  start 
ing  on  a  long  voyage.  The  home  grew  dearer  to  him 
every  year,  —  dearer  while  its  inmates  lived,  dearer  still 
when  they  lived  no  more.  His  heart  was  always  there, 
his  mind  often,  his  presence  less  and  less  frequently. 
He  could  always  revert  to  it  with  satisfaction  :  its  lessons 
he  had  not  to  unlearn  ;  its  influences  he  had  not  to  over 
come.  The  memory  of  father  and  mother  was  inexpres 
sibly  dear  to  the  last.  In  his  days  of  ambition  and 
fame,  he  confessed  to  himself,  and  made  no  secret  to  any 
body,  that  the  best  in  him  was  due  to  those  who  gave 
him  birth,  and  to  the  hardship  in  which  he  was  nurtured. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TEACHING  AND   STUDY. 

ON  the  23d  of  March,  1831,  Theodore  Parker  went  to 
Boston,  as  an  assistant  teacher  in  a  private  school,  at  a 
salary  of  twelve  dollars  a  month  and  board :  it  was  after 
wards  raised  to  fifteen  dollars,  and  the  increase  dated 
back  to  the  beginning  of  his  service.  His  worldly  goods 
were  contained  in  a  great  wooden  trunk  covered  with 
painted  cloth.  Eleven  octavo  volumes  and  a  few  twelve 
mos  constituted  his  library.  He  was  set  to  teach  more 
than  he  knew ;  but,  as  he  never  undertook  to  teach  what 
he  had  not  learned,  he  made  up  by  toil  what  he  lacked 
in  resources.  The  toil  was  fearful.  Mathematics,  natural 
philosophy,  Latin,  French,  Spanish,  must  be  kept  fresh, 
or  learned  newly,  and  —  except  with  incidental  aid  from  a 
professed  teacher  in  mathematics,  Mr.  Francis  Grund  — 
by  his  own  solitary  efforts.  Yet,  even  at  this  rate  of  en 
forced  speed,  he  distanced  duty,  adding  another  language 
(German)  to  his  store  of  tongues,  and  perfecting  his  ac 
quaintance  with  those  he  had.  This  winter  he  wrote  his 
first  lecture,  on  Poland,  and  read  it  in  Lexington.  The 
subject  was  one  of  great  popular  interest  at  the  time,  as 
much  as  that  of  Greece  or  Hungary  afterwards.  He 
studied  ten  or  twelve  hours  a  day,  —  the  school  required 
six  ;  from  May  to  September,  seven.  It  was  too  much : 
he  lost  twenty-eight  pounds  of  flesh  in  three  months. 
He  had  never  learned  the  art  of  husbanding  his  health : 
28 


TEACHING  AND  STUDY.  29 

no  friend  warned  him  against  the  consequences  of  close 
confinement,  insufficient  food,  broken  sleep,  excessive 
strain  of  faculty ;  and  even  his  great  strength  felt  the  ex 
haustion.  Signs  of  weakness  and  despondency  appeared 
thus  early :  he  was  laying  the  basis  for  the  chronic  ill 
health  that  was  such  a  drag  on  his  after-life.  He  knew  it 
when  too  late,  and  tried  by  resolute  efforts  to  recover  the 
lost  ground ;  made  rules  for  himself,  and  did  his  best  to 
observe  them  :  but  the  mistake,  once  committed,  could 
not  be  repaired  •  nor  could  the  habits,  once  contracted  and 
becoming  inveterate,  ever  be  wholly  abandoned. 

He  needed  air  and  exercise  j  but  he  needed  society 
even  more.  His  disposition  was  genial :  he  loved  people, 
he  craved  friendship,  and  had  not  even  acquaintances. 
Recreation  he  could  not  afford  had  he  desired  it.  Noth 
ing  broke  the  monotony  of  his  brain-work,  which  went  on 
with  such  pitiless  power,  that  faint  and  incidental  symp 
toms  of  paralysis  showed  themselves  from  time  to  time 
in  sensations  of  numbness  and  pricking,  the  purport 
whereof  he  did  not  understand.  Even  religion,  his 
never-failing  supporter,  came  to  him  at  this  period  in 
its  least  attractive  shape.  He  must  needs  make  a  study, 
and  not  a  refreshment,  of  that  too.  He  chose  that  time 
of  all  times  for  attending  the  pulpit  ministrations  of 
the  famous  Lyman  Beecher,  then  in  the  height  of  his 
popularity,  —  the  most  powerful  and  one  of  the  most  un 
compromising  preachers  of  orthodoxy  in  New  England, 
then  in  the  full  tide  of  popularity,  battling  fiercely  against 
"  Unitarians,  Universalists,  Papists,  and  infidels."  He  had 
come  to  Boston  to  crush  Dr.  Channing  and  the  new  here 
sies.  Parker  went  through  one  of  his  protracted  meet 
ings,  "listening  to  the  fiery  words  of  excited  men,  and 
hearing  the  most  frightful  doctrines  set  forth  in  sermon, 
song,  and  prayer."  The  result  of  it  was,  that  he  lost  all 
the  little  respect  he  had  for  the  Calvinistic  scheme  of 
theology,  —  a  result,  we  surmise,  that  was  worth  far  less 
3* 


30  THEODORE  PARKER. 

than  it  cost,  and  was  no  compensation  for  the  delight  and 
strength  the  new  dispensation  would  have  given  him. 
There  was  no  danger  of  his  respecting  the  Calvinistic 
theology  too  much,  and  there  was  danger  of  despondency 
in  his  own  heart. 

If  he  could  have  laid  by  money  for  his  future  plans, 
which  began  to  embrace  a  course  at  the  Cambridge  Di 
vinity  School,  it  would  have  been  a  consolation.  But 
from  a  salary  of  fifteen  dollars  a  month,  during  the  first 
five  months  of  which  he  supplied  a  man  to  work  in  his 
place  on  his  father's  farm,  —  his  father  demurred,  but 
Theodore  insisted,  —  not  many  dollars  could  be  saved  by 
the  severest  economy ;  and  his  vision  of  systematic  prepa 
ration  for  the  ministry,  as  it  faded  away  into  more  distant 
future,  left  an  additional  faintness  in  his  spirit. 

Fortunately,  his  life  in  Boston  lasted  but  a  twelvemonth, 
till  April,  1832.  He  went  thence  at  once  to  Watertown,  at 
the  suggestion,  probably,  of  relatives  who  lived  there,  and 
opened  a  private  school.  There  the  heavens  began  to 
brighten  to  him. 

The  school  was  opened  in  the  south  part  of  the  town,  in 
a  room  that  had  been  before  used  by  a  Mr.  Wilder  for  a 
similar  purpose.  It  was  on  the  second  floor  of  what  once 
was  a  bakery.  The  part  beneath  was  occupied  as  a  store 
house  by  Nathaniel  Broad,  who  lived  on  the  spot,  and  with 
whom  the  young  teacher  boarded.  It  was  in  every  respect 
a  comfortable,  convenient,  and  pleasant  place,  at  least 
after  the  handy  tenant  had  spent  some  of  his  carpentry 
skill  on  it.  He  was  his  own  attendant  and  porter.  In 
winter  he  sawed,  split,  and  brought  up  the  wood  for  the 
stove,  made  the  fire,  and  at  all  seasons  put  the  room  in 
order  for  the  scholars.  They  came  satisfactorily,  on  the 
whole.  He  began  with  the  two  sons  of  Mr.  George  Rob- 
bins.  Others  dropped  in  one  by  one,  till  the  school  in  the 
first  year  numbered  thirty-five.  Subsequently  it  increased 
to  fifty-four.  The  charge  was  not  high,  —  five  dollars  a 


TEACHING  AND  STUDY.  31 

quarter ;  but,  rather  than  turn  a  deserving  boy  or  girl  away 
because  the  modest  fee  could  not  be  paid,  he  would  take 
the  applicant  gratis,  and  bestow  as  much  care  on  the 
beneficiary  as  on  the  rest.  To  one  girl  he  gave  the  value 
of  his  instructions  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and  then  begged 
his  successor  to  allow  her  to  continue  her  studies  with 
him.  Social  questions  were  not  as  clear  to  his  mind 
as  they  were  afterwards.  A  colored  girl  applied,  and 
was  admitted  by  the  teacher  without  misgiving :  he  knew 
no  distinction  of  persons;  but  the  parents  of  his  other 
pupils  did.  They  made  objections,  prophesying  injury  to 
the  school  j  and  the  black  inmate  was  dismissed.  It  was 
not  a  generous  thing  to  do :  on  the  contrary,  it  was  a 
shabby  thing.  The  young  man  confessed  it  afterwards 
with  mortification,  and  made  ample  amends  to  her  perse 
cuted  race  ;  but  it  was  pardonable  in  a  youth  who  had  lived 
in  the  seclusion  of  thoughts,  whose  conscience  had  never 
been  touched  by  the  wrongs  of  the  negro  North  or  South, 
and  who  regarded  race  merely  as  he  would  any  other  dis 
turbing  element.  Had  it  occurred  to  him  that  a  principle 
was  involved  in  the  transaction,  he  would  have  seen  the 
school  dwindle  away  to  nothing  sooner  than  have "  yielded. 
The  boys  gave  him  society :  he  made  companions  of  them, 
shared  their  sports,  invited  their  confidence,  gained  their 
affection,  and  used  the  influence  he  acquired  to  shape  their 
characters  for  after-life.  Five  or  six  of  them  were  fellow- 
lodgers  with  him  at  Mr.  Broad's.  With  these  he  took  par 
ticular  pains,  correcting  their  habits,  observing  their 
manners,  and  seeming  to  feel  a  genuine  concern  for  their 
moral  welfare.  The  exercises  of  the  school  were  opened 
with  prayer ;  grace  was  said  before  meat,  in  a  simple  and 
impressive  way,  no  doubt ;  and  the  boys  felt  the  contagion 
of  a  pure,  reverent  mind. 

He  was  a  live  teacher,  with  an  insatiable  hunger  for 
knowledge  himself,  a  keen  appreciation  of  its  value  to  every 
body,  a  high  sense  of  personal  duty  as  an  instructor  of  it, 


32  THEODORE  PARKER. 

and  a  faith  apparently  boundless  in  the  capacity  of  fresh 
young  minds  to  take  it  in.  The  lads  who  came  to  him 
from  public  schools  were  at  first  dismayed  at  the  studies  he 
expected  of  them  ;  but  he  kindled  the  fire  while  he  fed  it 
with  fuel,  so  gently  persuading  and  skilfully  stimulating 
the  faculties,  so  clearly  explaining  and  so  dexterously  lead 
ing  along,  that  the  backward  and  reluctant  followed  at 
length.  He  had  a  way  of  making  the  scholars  answer  their 
own  questions,  and  remove  their  own  difficulties,  such  as 
only  complete  masters  of  their  art  possess.  The  text-book 
was  never  substituted  for  intellectual  activity :  it  was  mind 
to  mind  as  much  as  possible.  Manuals  of  natural  theology 
he  strongly  objected  to,  on  the  ground  that  they  forestalled 
inquiry,  and  raised  doubts  before  the  time.  If  he  used 
such  at  all,  he  used  them  as  provocatives  of  thought ;  but  he 
preferred  discarding  them.  He  had  other  ways  of  teaching 
natural  theology,  —  by  suggesting  natural  religion.  This 
he  did  by  casual  comments  and  reflections,  lessons  drawn 
from  the  day's  reading,  appeals  to  feeling,  or  to  the  intui 
tive  perceptions  of  right  and  wrong.  He  made  the  trees, 
flowers,  birds,  and  animals  his  texts  as  he  rambled  with  the 
boys  in  the  woods.  The  mind  stored  with  information  on 
natural  objects  overflowed  with  half -meditated,  half-unpur- 
posed  interpretations  of  the  beauty  and  use  of  the  world  of 
little  things,  and  illustrated  by  scores  of  pretty  facts  the 
ethics  of  boyish  life.  Religion  was  the  first  interest  with 
him :  he  was  unhappy  if  he  could  not  make  his  schoolboys 
feel  its  power  and  charm. 

He  insisted  on  order,  but  hated  to  enforce  it.  In  one  or 
two  instances  he  was  obliged  to  speak  harshly  in  reproof  ; 
but  only  in  one  or  two.  The  discipline  of  the  school  was 
secured  by  rational  kindness,  which  made  the  pupils  happy 
in  obedience.  Backed  by  his  weight  of  character,  the  rule 
of  love,  which  is  apt  to  degenerate  into  an  ineffectual  senti- 
mentalism,  acquired  a  sweet  stringency  that  was  sufficient 
for  ordinary  purposes.  His  love  was  a  power. 


TEACHING  AND  STUDY.  33 

The  life  in  Watertown  was  more  wholesome  in  many 
ways  than  the  life  in  Boston.  There  was  air  and  light, 
and  the  direct  contact  with  Nature.  In  summer  there  were 
long  afternoon  and  morning  walks.  Every  Saturday  he 
walked  to  Cambridge,  and  to  Charlestown  for  instruction  in 
Hebrew.  The  botanical  researches  were  pursued.  There 
was  companionship  too.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Broad  were  plain 
people,  but  kindly:  he  was  attached  to  them.  On  Mr. 
Broad's  death,  the  young  teacher  found  employment  for 
heart  and  hand  in  the  service  he  was  able  to  render  his 
widow  in  doors  and  out.  As  the  labors  of  the  school  be 
came  less  onerous,  he  had  leisure  and  disposition  for  society. 
His  cousins  in  Watertown  were  intelligent,  sympathetic, 
friendly  people.  His  uncle  was  a  man  of  remarkable  dig 
nity  and  sweetness,  of  an  easy  breadth  of  mind  that  Theo 
dore  enjoyed  heartily.  Gradually  their  circle  became  his : 
good  men  and  women  welcomed  him  to  their  homes.  Mr. 
Weiss,  who  has  lived  in  Watertown  himself,  and  can  speak 
from  knowledge,  dwells  tenderly  on  the  names  of  eight  or 
ten  families,  some  of  them  of  wealth  and  culture,  where 
he  was  intimate,  and  where  his  intimacy  is  cherished  in 
the  form  of  affectionate  memories  and  dearest  discipleship. 
They  are  associates  in  thought  with  Mr.  Parker  still.  The 
intimacy  of  two  years  continued  for  many,  and  was  an  edu 
cation  to  him  as  well  as  to  them. 

In  Watertown  Mr.  Parker  met  two  persons  whose  influ 
ence  was  felt  on  his  whole  future.  Rev.  Charles  Briggs  of 
Lexington  had  given  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Con- 
vers  Francis,  Unitarian  minister  to  the  First  Parish ;  and 
by  its  means  he  gained  access  to  a  noble  library,  a  spacious 
and  richly-furnished  mind,  and  a  heart  warm  to  every  lover 
of  truth  and  friend  of  "  the  humanities."  Mrs.  Francis  was 
kindness  itself  combined  with  elegance,  and  a  passion  for 
flowers  which  Theodore  shared.  Mr.  Francis  was  one  of 
those  rare  men  whom  too  few  appreciate :  a  liberal  scholar 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  phrase ;  learned  without  pedantry ; 


34  THEODORE  PARKER. 

open  to  the  light  from  every  quarter ;  an  enormous  reader 
of  books  ;  a  great  student  of  German  philosophy  and  divin 
ity,  as  very  few  at  that  time  were.  The  newest  criticisms 
and  speculations  were  on  his  table  and  in  his  mind.  He 
was  absolutely  free  from  dogmatism,  — the  dogmatism  of  the 
liberal  as  well  as  the  dogmatism  of  the  conservative.  The 
students  at  Cambridge,  when  he  afterwards  became  profess 
or  in  the  Divinity  School  there,  found  fault  with  him  for 
being  too  "  all-sided,"  —  non-committal ',  they  called  it,  —  un 
derstanding  neither  his  respect  for  their  minds,  nor  his  rev 
erence  for  the  truth.  He  was  a  conscientious,  natural 
eclectic,  with  as  few  intellectual  prejudices  as  it  is  well 
possible  to  have.  His  lectures  and  sermons  were  full  of 
suggestions,  opening  out  lines  of  thought  in  every  direction, 
eminently  useful,  but  eminently  unsatisfactory  to  such 
as  wanted  opinions  formulated  for  filing  away.  It  was  a 
happy,  cordial,  cheery  mind,  with  extensive  prospects  from 
all  the  windows,  —  just  the  mind  for  one  like  Theodore  to 
bask  in  the  light  of.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  the 
intellectual  atmosphere  it  was  a  delight  to  inhale.  The  Sun 
day  sermons  revealed  a  sunny  firmament  over  a  rich  world. 
The  week-day  talks  made  the  steps  familiar  with  fresh 
paths  and  fields  of  literature.  Here  were  books  without 
stint ;  here  was  a  friendly  interpreter  and  a  sympathetic 
inquirer.  In  the  two  years  he  was  in  Watertown,  Mr. 
Parker  incurred  an  immense  debt  to  this  high-minded 
scholar,  who  had  an  answer  to  his  questions,  and  an  inex 
haustible  patience  in  listening.  The  debt  was  increased  in 
later  years,  and  no  part  of  it  was  ever  forgotten. 

Intimacy  with  Mr.  Francis  brought  Theodore  into  rela 
tions  with  the  parish.  He  became  superintendent  of  the 
Sunday  school.  He  would  not  have  been  himself  if  he 
had  not  formed  a  Bible-class;  nor  would  he  have  been 
himself  if  he  had  taught  in  the  usual  way.  He  was  pecu 
liar,  however,  chiefly  in  his  method.  His  views  were  as  yet 
too  unformed  to  be  a  basis  for  instruction.  He  was  a  Uni- 


TEACHING  AND  STUDY.  35 

tarian  who  lived  quietly  within  the  confines  of  his  sect. 
Among  the  teachers  in  the  Sunday  school  was  Miss  Lydia 
D.  Cabot,  the  only  daughter  of  John  Cabot  of  Newton : 
she  resided  with  an  aunt  in  Boston,  but  was  boarding  in 
Watertown  under  the  same  roof  with  him.  An  attachment 
growing  up  between  them,  they  plighted  troths,  and  in  due 
time  became  husband  and  wife.  The  passion  of  love 
awoke  a  new  being  within  him.  "  I  have  a  new  pleasure 
in  the  discharge  of  my  duties.  I  love  my  books  the  more, 
my  school  the  more,  mankind  the  more,  and  even,  I  believe, 
my  God  the  more,  from  loving  you."  "  It  has  been  in  other 
time  than  this  my  highest  pleasure  thus  to  pass  my  time, 
thus  to  spend  my  nights,  in  *  high  concord  with  the  God 
like  past ; '  to  collect  my  own  thoughts,  and  search  for  new. 
But  now  I  find  a  new  pleasure,  which,  with  a  louder, 
sweeter  voice,  speaks  to  the  heart,  and  tells  another  tale." 

The  happy  letters  of  that  period  are  before  me  ;  the  ten- 
derest  passages,  meant  only  for  private  eyes,  being  omitted. 
The  dates  are  very  near  together.  The  writer's  frankness  in 
pouring  out  the  contents  of  his  mind  will  entertain  the 
reader,  yet  betray  no  confidence.  Here  are  a  few  ex 
tracts  :  — 

WATERTOWN,  Nov.  21,  1833. 

I  have  read  the  Life  of  Milton  :  it  contains  only  seventy -four 
pages  ;  so  I  finished  it  Monday  night.  Dr.  Channing,  in  his  Re 
view,  has  given  him  praise  with  too  much  liberality ;  and  Johnson 
has,  as  usual,  loaded  him  with  asperity.  Still  I  presume  Johnson 
has  the  most  truth  on  his  side.  Milton  was  a  giant,  and  so  was 
Johnson ;  but  one  was  a  celestial  prodigy,  the  other  a  mere 
earthly  Antaeus.  I  am  glad  you  advance  so  well  in  Homer. 
Somebody  says,  "  Homer  is  the  only  royal  road  to  poetry."  I 
think  so. 

DEC.  5,  1833. 

Whist  is  an  innocent  amusement ;  and  I  know  no  law,  divine 
or  human,  which  imposes  an  unpleasant  sanctimoniousness  on 
ministers'  wives.  I  take  but  little  pleasure,  I  confess,  in  such 
amusements,  —  a  satisfactory  reason  for  my  abandoning  them  ; 
but  it  is  a  reason  that  should  influence  nobody  else. 


36  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Nov.  14,  1833. 

You  speak  of  "  poor,  weak  woman."  Weakness  and  strength 
are  only  comparative  terms.  To  speak  absolutely,  nothing  is 
strong  but  Him  who  is  strength  itself.  But  a  woman  compara 
tively  weak  !  Turn  over  the  pages  of  history,  and  read  what  she 
has  done.  Who  is  it  that  excites  the  giant  spirits  of  the  world  to 
run  their  career  of  glory  ?  and  better,  far  better,  and  nobler  too, 
who  carries  joy  and  peace  to  the  fireside  of  the  poor  and  the 
peasant  ?  .  .  . 

I  have  made  very  good  progress  in  logic,  and  find  it  much 
more  interesting  than  I  expected.  I  shall  always  be  delighted, 
encouraged,  and  excited  to  greater  efforts,  by  your  inquiries 
into  my  studies. 

DEC.  27,  1833. 

Why  should  we  not  suppose  all  the  stars,  and  all  the  planets 
supposed  to  belong  to  each,  to  be  inhabited  ?  They  are  the 
work  of  an  infinite  Being,  who  had  infinite  wisdom,  power,  and 
goodness,  and  an  infinite  space  to  exert  itself  in  ;  and,  if  we  sup 
pose  all  inhabited  with  various  orders  of  animals  like  the 
tribes  of  common  earth,  what  a  noble  universe  we  have  to 
contemplate  !  .  .  . 

I  do  not  suppose  Moses  or  Joshua,  or  even  Solomon  himself, 
knew  this,  or  ever  thought  of  it.  Nobody  in  their  age  had  such 
ideas.  The  prophets  were  illuminated  with  light  from  on  high  ; 
but  it  was  to  rebuke  idolatry,  reprove  oppression,  and  excite  to 
virtue  :  and  of  Christ  himself  we  may  say,  that  though  he  must 
have  known  this,  yet  he  came  to  teach  religion,  to  console 
affliction,  and  to  excite  mankind  to  virtue,  not  to  teach  as 
tronomy. 

JAN.  15,  1834. 

I  shall  probably  finish  "  Waverley  "  and  "  The  Antiquary  "  this 
week.  You  know  what  a  task  it  commonly  is  to  read  novels,  and 
will  perhaps  be  surprised  to  find  I  have  hardihood  enough  to 
attempt  one.  Do  you  recollect  the  Rev.  Mr.  Blattergowl  in 
"  The  Antiquary  "  ?  What  a  "  woful  example  "  Sir  Walter  held 
up  for  the  admonition  of  prosing  parsons  ! 


TEACHING  AND  STUDY.  37 

JAN.  22, 1834. 

I  have  been  this  afternoon  to  examine  a  school,  which 
afforded  me  a  walk  of  somewhat  more  than  two  miles.  .  .  . 

Sawed  wood  half  an  hour  this  morning.  As  you  will  see,  I  have 
not  been  without  exercise  ;  that  is,  exercise  of  the  body,  which, 
St.  Paul  says,  "  profiteth  little  :  "  my  mental  exercise  has  been 
reading  sixty-six  pages  of  German,  and  almost  all  the  Reviews. 
Sunday  night,  read  Scripture  of  course,  and  oi\\zYgood books.  .  .  . 
A  little  in  Byron  has  been  read.  He  was  a  wicked  poet,  and  a 
wicked  man.  His  striking,  his  graphic  descriptions  enchain  the 
mind,  and  the  melody  of  his  verse  recurs  continually  to  one's  ears ; 
but  the  heart  of  the  thoughtless  is  in  the  mean  time  corrupted. 
Miss  Martineau  says  Scott  has  done  more  to  extirpate  vice 
from  the  world  than  any  preacher  in  England.  It  is  perhaps  true ; 
and  she  might  have  added,  that  no  philosopher  (!)  who  denied 
his  God,  no  epicurean  who  struck  at  the  distinction  of  good  and 
evil,  has  done  so  much  to  corrupt  the  hearts  of  youth,  to  stagger 
the  minds  of  the  giddy,  as  this  misanthropic  Lord  Byron. 

FEB.  27,  1834. 

Mr.  Francis  called  here  yesterday,  and  lent  me  the  necessary 
books  :  so  I  have  commenced  the  great  study,  —  the  criticism  of 
the  New  Testament ;  and  with  the  little  which  has  been  yet 
explored  of  it  I  am  not  only  pleased,  but  highly  delighted. 
It  is,  as  you  know,  a  subject  on  which  the  noblest  minds  that 
philosophy  has  enlightened  have  been  busy  these  thousand 
years,  and  without  exhausting  the  boundless  subject.  .  .  . 

I  have  been  to  examine  a  school  this  afternoon.  This  is  the 
last  of  my  service  as  school  committee  ;  and  glad  I  am. 

FEB.  26,  1834. 

I  consulted  Mr.  Francis  about  going  to  Cambridge  soon  and 
joining  the  present  junior  class.  He  thought  it  a  good  plan, 
and  gave  me  letters  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Ware.  I  have  walked 
to  Cambridge  this  afternoon,  and  seen  all  the  faculty.  Have  re 
solved  to  make  the  attempt :  so  I  shall  finish  school-keeping 
on  the  ist  of  April,  and  remove  to  Cambridge,  take  a  room  at 
the  Hall,  and  commence  study.  .  .  . 

Diligence  and  patient  application  will  enable  me  to  accom- 
4 


38  THEODORE  PARKER. 

plish  by  next  commencement  all  that  the  class  will  by  that 
time  have  completed  ;  and  no  disadvantage  will  be  incurred  by 
thus  commencing.  I  shall  study  alone  all  the  class  has  yet 
attempted  ;  and,  if  I  stay  at  Cambridge,  can  hear  Mr.  Palfrey's 
lectures.  .  .  . 

Nothing  is  too  much  for  young  ambition  to  hope,  no  eminence 
too  lofty  for  his  vision,  no  obstacle  too  difficult  for  his  exertions, 
and  no  excellence  unattainable.  Patience,  perseverance,  prayer, 
have  done  something  already  ;  and  when  we  consider  that  sin 
cere  desires  are  never  neglected,  and  real  endeavors  never 
unassisted,  we  need  not  despair  of  making  some  approaches  at 
least  to  the  eminence  Mr.  Palfrey  now  occupies.  Would  not 
this  be  truly  delightful  ?  No  situation  can  be  more  honorable, 
no  task  more  pleasant,  no  prospect  more  celestial,  than  that  of  a 
virtuous,  faithful  clergyman.  .  .  . 

I  have  finished  "Childe  Harold,"  and  am  better  pleased  with 
it  than  with  "  Don  Juan,"  because  it  contains  more  soberness 
of  thought,  with  less  of  blasphemy  and  immorality.  There  is 
less  fire  in  Harold  than  in  the  other  hero,  but  less  rage,  folly, 
and  madness. 

MARCH  13,  1834. 

.  .  .  The  story  of  the  witch  of  Endor  is  quite  curious,  and 
has  served  to  perplex  many  of  the  best  commentators.  But  it 
can  be  explained  without  any  thing  supernatural  being  sup 
posed. 

I  do  not  think  Saul  saw  Samuel :  the  witch  only  pretended  to 
see  him,  and  gave  the  answers  as  if  Samuel  himself  were  actually 
present.  It  deserves  notice,  too,  that  nothing  new  is  told,  — 
nothing  which  Samuel  had  not  declared  while  alive.  .  .  . 

Many  consider  all  the  Psalms  of  David  as  inspired.  But  do 
they  all  breathe  the  good  and  merciful  spirit  of  the  Lord  ?  If 
we  view  them  as  works  of  inspiration,  they  appear  incon 
sistent  with  the  character  of  God ;  but  if  we  regard  them 
as  only  the  odes  of  a  pious  king,  who  yet  had  all  the  frailties 
of  a  man,  they  must  be  pronounced  excellent,  though  often 
savoring  of  a  revengeful  spirit. 

MARCH  26,  1834. 

.  .  .  Much  in  this  world  is  ruled  by  a  power  we  cannot  control ; 
but  much  also  is  left  completely  in  our  own  power.  Fate  cannot 


TEACHING  AND  STUDY.  39 

prevent  our  being  good:  it  may  forbid  us  to  be  great.  Let  us, 
then,  build  our  castles  upon  goodness,  not  greatness ;  upon  the 
esteem  of  the  virtuous,  not  the  admiration  of  the  giddy. 

Perhaps  this  is  the  last  letter  I  shall  ever  write  you  from  this 
place,  since  school  closes  in  a  week. 

There  was  another,  a  very  long  and  singular  one,  —  about 
the  strangest  kind  of  a  love-letter  ever  penned.  It  is  taken 
up  chiefly  with  an  imaginary  conversation  between  a  horse 
and  a  goose,  in  which  each  sings  his  own  praises,  and  cele 
brates  the  glories  of  his  race.  Then  the  pleasant  epistles 
run  on  till  marriage  ends  the  correspondence,  —  a  strain 
of  moral  reflection,  criticism,  notes  on  books,  remarks  on 
persons,  accounts  of  walks  and  talks,  drolleries,  bits  of  sen 
timent,  rhapsodies,  interspersed  with  poems  "  to  his  mis 
tress'  eye-brow,"  —  fresh,  buoyant,  various,  with  but  one 
or  two  passing  touches  of  sorrow,  which  yet  hardly  deserves 
so  expressive  a  word,  and  with  sparkles  of  gladness  shining 
through  them  all. 

The  two  years  in  Watertown  were  eventful  years  both 
of  joy  and  labor.  The  achievements  in  scholarship  were 
amazing.  In  spite  of  school-teaching  and  school-exami 
nations,  social  intercourse,  visits  to  Mr.  Francis,  commu 
nions  with  Miss  Cabot,  he  gives  us  his  word  that  he  pursued 
the  study  of  Latin  and  Greek  authors,  the  most  of  Cicero, 
Herodotus,  Thucydides,  Pindar,  Theocritus,  Bion,  Mos- 
chus  (the  last  four  of  which  he  translated),  and  ^Eschylus. 
He  wrote  for  his  Sunday-school  class  a  history  of  the  Jews, 
which  still  exists  in  manuscript ;  pushed  his  studies  in 
metaphysics,  taking  up  Cousin  and  the  new  school  of 
French  philosophers  ;  began  the  study  of  Hebrew,  walking, 
as  before  said,  to  Charlestown  to  meet  Mr.  Seixas,  a  Jew ; 
and  entered  on  the  study  of  theology.  Besides  all  this, 
the  German  poets  Goethe,  Schiller,  Klopstock,  had  a  share 
of  his  attention,  and  the  works  of  Coleridge  engaged  a 
portion  of  his  thoughts.  An  occasional  novel  by  Walter 
Scott,  or  a  poem  of  Byron,  beguiled  the  leisure  moments. 


40  THEODORE  PARKER. 

His  studies  ran  into  the  early  morning.  The  landlady 
kept  the  lamps  well  supplied ;  but  there  was  no  oil  in  his 
lamp  when  the  day  broke. 

To  leave  Watertown  cost  him  pain.  His  boys  loved 
him,  and  concerted  a  surprise  for  him  in  the  shape  of  a  sil 
ver  cup,  with  ceremony  of  presentation-speech  by  Master 
Briggs.  The  testimonial  of  affection  was  more  than  Theo 
dore  could  bear;  his  tears,  whether  of  joy  or  grief,  being 
always  near  the  surface.  A  few  moments  of  retirement 
were  necessary  to  regain  sufficient  command  of  himself  to 
dismiss  the  school. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

DIVINITY  HALL. 

MR.  PARKER  went  to  Cambridge  Divinity  School  in 
April,  1834,  —  three  months  before  the  close  of  the  junior  or 
first  year  of  his  class,  —  and  remained  there  two  years  and 
a  quarter.  He  had  saved  up  a  little  money  from  his  teach 
ing,  —  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  ;  having  spent 
some  two  hundred  dollars  in  books  while  at  Watertown,  and 
clothed  himself  besides.  The  expenses  of  the  Hall  were  not 
heavy,  —  sixty-six  dollars  annually  for  tuition,  and  care  of 
room ;  one  dollar  and  ninety  cents  a  week  for  board  in 
"commons."  This  last  expense  he  tried  to  save  by  board 
ing  himself  at  half  a  dollar  a  week  on  dry  bread,  —  a  course 
that  he  was  wise  enough  to  abandon  for  a  boarding-house  so 
far  off  that  he  must  needs  get  exercise  in  going  to  and  from 
his  meals.  A  successful  application  for  assistance  from  the 
beneficiary  fund  gave  him  from  a  hundred  and  ten  to  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  more.  Teaching,  first  one  boy, 
then  two,  then  two  young  girls  in  addition,  brought  a  mod 
erate  accession  to  his  income.  He  was  countenanced  in 
his  habits  of  economy  by  his  fellow-students;  for  nearly 
all  who  came  to  study  theology  were  poor.  The  wretch 
ed  custom  of  boarding  themselves,  which  meant  eating 
crackers  or  other  food  that  needed  no  cooking,  was  not 
uncommon.  There  was  no  refectory  at  the  Hall:  the 
college  commons  were  half  a  mile  off.  Divinity  students 
are  apt  to  be  touched  by  a  flavor  of  asceticism  from 
4*  4' 


42  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ancient  traditions ;  but  economy  was  the  main  considera 
tion. 

Divinity  Hall  is  a  long  brick  building,  that  stands  at  some 
distance  from  the  street,  and  is  approached  by  a  pretty 
shaded  avenue.  It  contains  rooms  for  the  accommoda 
tion  of  students,  —  small,  but  convenient  and  pleasant, — 
recitation-rooms,  a  pleasant  chapel,  and  a  scanty  library. 
The  college-library  was  open  to  the  students,  and  was,  as 
it  is  now,  the  main  resource  for  scholars  who  travelled  out 
of  the  beaten  path.  In  front  of  the  hall  a  broad  green 
made  an  excellent  play-ground.  In  the  rear  were  the  out 
buildings,  residence  of  janitor,  and  so  forth :  behind  these 
were  pretty  woods.  The  professors  lived  in  the  neighbor 
hood, —  Dr.  Palfrey  at  the  end  of  a  continuation  of  the 
avenue ;  Mr.  Norton,  not  then  a  professor,  on  a  handsome 
place  across  the  fields  behind  ;  Mr.  Ware  in  a  modest 
house  just  beyond  the  entrance-gate. 

Few  divinity  students  have  the  polished  air  of  young 
gentlemen.  Parker  was  no  exception  to  the  rest  in  his 
unformed  appearance;  his  long,  thick  hair;  his  dress,  neat, 
but  carelessly  worn.  But,  in  other  respects,  he  was  re 
markable. 

"  My  first  and  unchanged  feeling,"  says  C.  A.  Bartol, 
"was  of  his  exuberant  life,  restless  ambition  to  excel, 
and  an  honesty  that  knew  not  how  to  lie.  The  ruddy  face  j 
firm  and  eager  grasp  ;  the  manner  nothing  if  not  natural ; 
either  a  complete  retreat  into  himself,  or  unmistakable  evo 
lution  to  draw  the  enemy's  fire  ;  the  smile,  frank  as  spring 
and  sweet  as  summer,  or  ready  to  curl  with  biting  scorn  ; 
no  maiden's  blushing  cheek  more  ingenuously  modest,  and 
no  graduate's  tongue  from  the  college,  whose  privilege  was 
not  his,  more  ingeniously  acute.  I  remember  him,  in  the 
theological  debates,  sitting  still  in  his  seat,  and  tying  noise 
less  knots  in  his  handkerchief,  every  one  of  which,  he  told 
me,  meant  some  argument  for  which  he  had  a  reply.  After 
wards  I  see  him,  as  he  stood  before  a  marble  statue,  called 


DIVINITY  HALL.  43 

'  The  Genius  of  Love,'  by  Horatio  Greenough,  in  my 
parlor,  in  earnest  admiration,  but  with  no  pretence.  Per 
haps  his  emotion  helped  him  to  hew  that  other  statue  of 
tranquil  fervor  in  his  soul,  of  which,  in  his  '  Discourse  of 
Religion,'  he  speaks ;  and  doubtless  the  knotted  silk,  in 
the  sham-fight  of  abstract  questions,  was  practice  prelimi 
nary  to  the  woven  whip-lash  he  was  to  lay  on  all  the  hypoc 
risies,  iniquities,  and  superstitions  of  Church  and  State." 

There  were  about  thirty  students  at  the  Hall  when  Mr. 
Parker  joined  the  school.  His  own  class  consisted  of 
eight,  of  whom  four  are  still  in  the  ministry :  one  of  them, 
Abiel  Abbot  Livermore,  is  president  of  Meadville  Theo: 
logical  School  in  Pennsylvania.  Of  the  rest,  one  lives  in 
seclusion  in  Salem,  having  early  left  the  ministry ;  anothei 
is  editor  of  "The  Journal  of  Music  "  in  Boston, — the  fore 
most  musical  critic  there ;  a  third  is  an  artist,  poet,  and 
man  of  letters.  It  is  a  little  singular,  that,  of  so  small  a 
class,  so  many  should  have  retired  from  the  profession. 
The  studies  the  first  year  were  in  Hebrew,  the  criticism 
of  the  New  Testament,  the  evidences  of  Christianity. 
There  was,  once  a  week,  an  exercise  in  extemporaneous 
speaking,  and  an  exercise  in  declamation.  On  Friday 
evening  the  whole  school  assembled  in  the  chapel  for  free 
debate  on  some  given  theme,  generally  of  a  social  charac 
ter.  Interest  in  questions  of  concern  to  humanity  at  large 
was  promoted  by  the  "  Philanthropic  Society,"  which  held 
meetings  once  a  fortnight.  At  these  meetings  a  commit 
tee  appointed  for  the  purpose  presented  a  report  on  some 
large  subject,  like  "  Intemperance,"  " License-Laws,"  "The 
Wages  of  Women : "  the  members  joined  in  the  discussion. 
The  whole  school  listened  to  a  lecture  on  Saturday  morn 
ing  on  the  composition  of  sermons.  The  senior  class 
showed  how  much  they  had  profited  by  the  instruction  by 
preaching  in  the  chapel  on  Sunday  evenings,  professors 
and  students  attending.  The  religious  interests  of  the 
school  were  provided  for  by  daily  services  of  prayer  in  the 


44  THEODORE  PARKER. 

chapel,  a  general  religious  meeting  on  Thursday  evening, 
and  such  private  exercises  as  the  students  might  hold 
among  themselves.  Opportunity  for  practice  in  some  of 
the  departments  of  ministerial  work  was  afforded  by  the 
different  Sunday  schools  in  the  neighborhood,  where  the 
young  men  took  classes,  or  acted  as  superintendents ;  and 
by  the  State  Prison  in  Charlestown,  whither  the  more  ear 
nest  and  sympathetic  repaired  on  Sunday  morning  to  teach 
and  help  morally  the  inmates. 

Here  was  duty  enough  to  occupy  all  the  hours.  Theo 
dore  threw  himself  into  it  with  his  whole  might.  He  had 
come  there  to  work ;  and  work  he  did,  at  whatever  invited. 
It  is  quite  credible  that  he  studied  fourteen  hours  a  day : 
even  his  astonishing  force  of  concentration  and  acquisi 
tion  required  no  less  for  what  he  undertook.  A  companion 
at  the  school  remembers  that  "we  all  looked  upon  him 
as  a  prodigious  athlete  in  his  studies.  He  made  daily  ac 
quaintance  with  books  which  were  sealed  books  to  many 
old  biblical  scholars,  and,  to  us  youngsters  of  the  school, 
were  scarcely  known  even  by  name.  He  would  dive  into 
the  college-library,  and  fish  up  huge,  venerable  tomes  in 
Latin  and  Greek,  and  lug  them  up  to  his  room,  and  go 
into  them  as  a  boarding-school  girl  would  go  into  a  novel. 
We  soon  saw  what  his  extraordinary  capacities  were  of 
reading  and  retention.  He  literally  devoured  books.  The 
rapidity  of  his  reading  was  something  wonderful.  Great 
things  were  prophesied  of  him ;  but  it  was  supposed  he 
would  be  little  more  than  a  scholar,  —  an  extraordinary 
book-worm.  None  guessed  that  he  was  ere  long  to  be 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  the  day  in  more  ways 
than  one  ;  that  the  immense  fund  of  learning  he  was  lay 
ing  up  was  but  his  arsenal  of  weapons  with  which  later  he 
was  to  do  battle  for  pure,  unadulterated  Christianity.'" 

Yet  at  that  very  time  his  power  of  speech  and  of  moral 
feeling  was  attracting  attention.  He  was  the  best  debater, 
though  not  the  best  writer,  in  the  Hall ;  always  speaking 


DIVINITY  HALL.  45 

vigorously,  and  to  the  point,  with  an  independence  of 
thought,  an  enthusiasm  of  manner,  and  a  freshness,  that 
gave  promise  of  greater  pulpit  power  than  he  at  first  dis 
played.  He  liked  real  themes  and  real  talk.  He  missed 
none  of  the  exercises  that  tended  to  equip  him  for  his 
office  ;  was  devoted  to  his  class  at  the  State  Prison,  pre 
ferring  to  deal  with  genuine  cases  of  moral  need,  and 
showing  uncommon  ability  to  interest  unpromising  sub 
jects.  He  was  social  too,  as  mere  book-worms  are  not ; 
running  into  his  classmates'  rooms  for  a  chat  or  a  gambol. 
He  had  as  little  dust  on  the  surface  of  his  mind  as  the 
airiest  of  them  all :  none  flushed  quicker  with  indignation, 
none  broke  out  more  boisterously  into  mirth. 

The  same  genial  reporter  first  quoted,  C.  P.  Cranch, 
says,  "  His  temperament  seemed  one  charged  full  of 
electricity,  so  that  he  was  literally  snapping  at  times  with 
sparks  of  fun  and  satire.  After  the  long  hours  of  close 
study  in  his  library,  his  mind  would  indulge  itself  in  the 
most  boyish  and  playful  rebounds.  He  had  the  keenest 
appreciation  of  the  humorous  and  the  ludicrous.  In  his 
sportive  and  satiric  veins  he  would  throw  off  the  most 
amusing  conceits  and  pasquinades.  His  satire  was  chiefly 
directed  against  the  theology  and  social  shams  of  the  day. 
His  sallies  of  wit  loved  to  take  a  pictorial  shape.  Had 
he  possessed  a  talent  for  drawing,  he  would  have  been  a 
Hogarth.  This  Rabelaisian  trait  would  twinkle  continually 
in  his  eyes,  and  lurk  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  It 
was,  however,  always  tempered  and  subdued  by  a  becoming 
deference  to  his  office  of  teacher  and  clergyman. 

"  I  remember  a  whimsical  and  original  joke  of  his  at 
the  Divinity  School.  It  was  a  play  of  animal  spirits,  a 
practical  jest,  a  protest  and  a  satire  combined.  Two  or 
three  of  us  divinity  students  —  I  remember  John  Dwight 
was  one  —  were  in  full  musical  blast  at  something  —  flut 
ing  or  singing,  I  forget  which  —  in  one  of  the  rooms  of 
Divinity  Hall.  Immediately  opposite  was  Parker's  room. 


46  THEODORE  PARKER. 

He  was  evidently  engaged  in  much  more  serious  study, 
and  more  in  the  line  of  his  future  profession,  than  we 
were.  Still  we  were  quite  unaware  of  our  disturbing  him, 
or  we  should  have  sunk  our  music  to  a  pianissimo,  or 
adjourned  it  to  another  place  or  hour.  Theodore  had, 
however,  borne  it  some  time  without  protesting.  Pres 
ently  there  was  a  peculiar  *  movement '  in  the  entry,  just 
outside  our  door,  executed  upon  a  peculiar  and  by  no 
means  musical  instrument,  —  a  sort  of  obligate  ad  libitum 
bass,  —  thrown  in  as  an  accompaniment  to  our  strains. 
On  opening  the  door  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  these 
strange  sounds,  there  was  Theodore,  who  had  left  his 
folios  of  the  Latin  fathers,  had  rushed  into  the  cellar,  and 
brought  up  a  wood-horse,  saw,  and  log  of  wood,  on  which 
he  was  exercising  his  vigorous  sinews  —  see-saw,  see-saw 
—  to  our  utter  discomfiture  and  amusement.  As  for  Theo 
dore,  he  barely  smiled." 

The  "  Common-Place  Book  "  contains  a  page  of  original 
puns,  which  indicate  that  his  brains  could  at  times  leave 
him  as  completely  as  they  ever  leave  the  professors  of  that 
peculiar  kind  of  witlessness.  If  the  jokes  were  strictly 
original,  they  might  be  excused ;  but  some  of  them  bear 
traces  of  very  remote  antiquity.  Their  execrableness 
alone  commended  them,  perhaps ;  and  their  venerableness 
attested  their  merit. 

Such  a  man  could  not  be  a  bookworm :  still  his  bookish 
achievements  were  most  remarkable.  Only  by  transcrib 
ing  the  journal,  commenced  in  1835,  could  any  idea  be 
obtained  of  the  extent  of  his  researches.  The  folio  pages 
are  crowded  with  lists  of  books  read  or  to  be  read,  —  analy 
ses,  summaries,  comments  on  writers  of  every  description, 
in  every  tongue.  Only  to  name  them  would  be  a  fatigue,  — 
Eichhorn,  Herder,  Ammon,  De  Wette,  Paulus,  Philo,  the 
Greek  historians,  the  fathers  of  the  Church,  the  Greek  and 
Latin  poets,  Plato,  Spinoza,  the  Wolfenbiittel  Fragments. 
The  succession  is  bewildering;  but  there  is  the  record 


DIVINITY  HALL.  47 

in  the  private  journal,  the  veracity  whereof  cannot  be 
disputed,  —  a  record  showing  acquaintance  not  with  the 
names  of  the  books  merely,  but  with  the  contents.  In 
two  months,  November  and  December,  1835,  ^e  names 
of  sixty-five  volumes  are  given  as  having  been  read 
in  German,  English,  Danish,  Latin,  Greek,  reaching  all 
the  way  from  "  Peter  Simple  "  to  Bouterwek  and  Rosen- 
miiller.  One  of  them  was  Dr.  Channing's  "Essay  on 
Slavery ; "  the  first  seed,  perhaps,  of  the  tree  that  spread 
so  widely  in  ten  years.  The  seed  fell  upon  good  soil ;  for 
Theodore,  though  generally  indifferent  to  party  politics, 
held  liberal  opinions  from  the  first.  He  never  approved 
of  slavery  or  defended  it,  or  was  silent  when  others  spoke 
in  its  favor.  Dr.  Francis  in  Watertown  observed  that. 

His  power  of  getting  at  the  secret  of  a-  language  was 
wonderful.  Hebrew  he  taught  to  a  class  of  collegians ; 
and  during  Dr.  Palfrey's  absence  in  New  Orleans,  in  1836, 
he  took  the  professor's  place  as  Hebrew  instructor  at  the 
Hall.  His  studies  in  languages  were  not  always  pushed 
very  far ;  a  taste  sometimes  sufficed ;  but  the  taste  detected 
the  quality  of  the  speech.  Some  of  his  studies  in  com 
parative  philology  are  curious.  In  the  list  of  languages 
from  whose  literature  he  drank  deeper  or  lighter  draughts 
we  find  Italian,  Portuguese,  Spanish,  Dutch,  Danish,  Swe 
dish,  Icelandic,  modern  Greek,  Chaldee,  Arabic,  Persian, 
Coptic,  Ethiopic,  Russian.  "The  Swedish  language  is 
easy,  and  I  expect  to  get  much  amusement  and  instruction 
from  it.  The  Danish  presents  more  difficulties  than 
Swedish;  and  I  shall  not  study  it  extensively,  but  soon 
make  it  give  place  to  some  other."  The  Russian  he 
dropped,  being  unable  to  master  the  sounds  of  the  lan 
guage.  Later  in  life  he  mastered  it  so  far  as  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  dialect  that  is  used  by  the  priests. 
President  White  of  Cornell  found  him  as  well  booked  in 
Russian  affairs  as  he  himself,  who  had  been  studying  them 
on  the  spot  for  months.  A  friend  found  him,  one  day 


48  THEODORE  PARKER. 

in  later  life,  poring  over  the  grammar  of  the  Mpongwe 
tongue,  a  dialect  of  Africa.  The  German  furnished  him 
the  richest  materials  for  thought  in  theology,  philosophy, 
criticism,  and  poetry.  His  own  English  speech  was  not 
neglected.  The  journal  bears  traces  of  serious  work  on 
the  Anglo-Saxon  alphabet,  and  on  the  derivation  of  Celtic 
and  Gothic  tongues.  One  page  of  "  The  Common-Place 
Book  "  gives  a  comparative  table  of  characters  in  Phoeni 
cian,  Hebrew,  Etruscan,  Greek,  Latin,  Runic,  Irish,. Thibe 
tan,  and  two  others  whose  names  are  illegible. 

To  deal  with  such  materials,  one's  tools  must  be  in 
good  condition.  He  was  wont  to  whet  his  memory  on  a 
huge  chart,  covered  with  dates  set  down  in  irregular  order, 
which  he  had  posted  on  his  door.  Here  are  canons  of 
self-discipline  that  he  made  for  himself.  They  are  printed 
as  they  stand ;  though  one  or  two  of  them  are  for  the 
privacy  of  his  own  eye,  and  must  be  read  as  the  secret 
thoughts  of  a  man  in  his  closet :  — 

I.  PHYSICAL. 

1.  Avoid  excess  in  meat  and  drink. 

2.  Take  exercise  in  the  air  at  least  three  hours  a  day. 

3.  Always  get  six  hours'  sleep.     (To  this  is  added 

in  pencil,  as  an  afterthought,  "  More  is  better : 
seven  hours  certainly ;  eight  hours  very  often, 
and  always  would  be  more  suitable  and  proper.") 

II.  INTELLECTUAL. 

I.  Explore  a  subject  when  curiosity  is  awake.  Sometimes 
this  is  impossible.  Note  the  subject  in  a  book,  and 
examine  as  soon  as  possible  in  this  manner :  — 

1.  By  finding  out  what  I  really  know  upon  the  subject. 

2.  Obtaining  clear  and  distinct  notions  in  some  way. 

3.  By  stating  in  words  the  result  of  my  study,  and 

repeating  till  it  has  made  a  deep  impression. 
Sometimes  write  them  in  this  book. 

4.  If  historical,  settle  the  time  ;  writers  who  related  it ; 

their  character. 

5.  The  cause. 

6.  The  effect. 


DIVINITY  HALL. 


49 


II.  Keep  the  mind  obedient  to  the  will,  so  as  to  be  independ 
ent  of  external  affairs.  This  cannot  be  com 
pletely  effected,  but  may  be,  in  a  great  measure, 
by  the  use  of  certain  intermedia;  viz.,  words  of 
poets,  &c. 
III.  MORAL. 

I.  Preserve  devoutness  by,  — 

1.  Contemplation  of  Nature  ; 

2.  Of  the  attributes  of  God  ; 

3.  Of  my  own  dependence. 

4.  By  prayer  at  night  and  morn,  and  al  all  times  when 

devout  feelings  come  over  me. 

II.  Preserve  gratitude  by  reflections  on  God's  mercies  to 

me, — 

1.  In  giving  blessings  unasked  ; 

2.  Answering  prayer. 

III.  Restrain  licentiousness  of  imagination,  which   com 

prehends    many  particulars    that   must  not  be 
committed  to  paper,  lest  the  paper  blush. 

That  last  touch  shows  the  sincerity  of  the  man.  None 
but  the  purest  ever  make  such  entries.  But  for  that  whis 
per  in  the  confessional,  it  would  never  have  been  sus 
pected  that  tainted  fancies  ever  surprised  him,  so  utterly 
blameless  was  his  life,  so  strange  to  his  lips  was  the  sound 
of  an  impure  word,  so  alien  from  his  frank  blue  eyes  was 
the  most  fleeting  look  suggestive  of  indelicacy.  His 
moral  feelings  were  strict  to  austerity.  Even  his  religious 
sentiments  had  a  tinge  of  Puritanism  in  them. 

To  a  nephew  he  writes  in  1834:  "One  thing  in  your 
letter  did  displease  me :  I  mean  the  unholy  manner  in 
which  you  quoted  words  of  sacred  writ.  Such  use  of 
Scripture,  you  know,  is  inconsistent  with  the  Christian 
spirit ;  and  you  will  only  need  to  have  its  bad  tendency 
pointed  out  to  avoid  it  in  the  future."  To  the  same,  a 
month  later:  "  Do  you  attend  Mr.  Barry's  (Unitarian) 
church  constantly?  Are  you  yet  a  member?  If  not,  I 
do  not  accuse  you :  yet  I  think  it  is  the  duty  of  every  one 
5 


50  THEODORE  PARKER. 

to  employ  all  the  means  of  religion  within  reach ;  and  this 
is  certainly  a  powerful  one.  It  is  not  an  end  to  be 
obtained :  it  is  one  of  the  means  to  promote  spiritual-mind- 
edness  and  true  piety.  Perhaps  you  think  keeping  the  law, 
and  being  merely  a  good  moral  man,  is  religion :  I  think 
not.  Do  not  think  I  mean  to  reproach  you.  It  is  only 
my  intention  to  warn."  Again,  a  few  weeks  later,  to  the 
same  nephew,  so  near  his  own  age  that  he  prefers  to 
address  him  as  "  friend : "  "  So  a  man  is  a  Christian,  it 
makes  little  difference  whether  he  is  a  Calvinist  or 
Lutheran,  Papist  or  Protestant.  We  all  know  that  each 
sect  contains  in  its  instructions  enough  of  pure  and  vital 
Christian  advice  to  insure  our  salvation,  so  far  as  this 
depends  upon  ourselves  or  our  fellow-mortals.  ...  I 
am  glad  you  find  delight  in  worshipping  where  you  do. 
I  hope  God  will  hear  your  prayers,  and  always  grant  you 
happiness  in  your  belief,  which  I  will  never  exhort  you  to 
change;  though  every  conscientious  man  would  prefer 
all  his  friends  to  be  of  his  own  persuasion."  In  a  subse 
quent  letter  of  this  intimate  correspondence  he  says,  "  I 
do  not  suppose  you  mean  to  say  that  religion  is  some  one 
thing,  state,  or  feeling,  which  comes  to  you  in  a  moment, 
when  you  had  no  conception  of  such  a  thing  before ;  but 
that  it  is  love  to  God,  and  good  will  to  men,  which  gradu 
ally  arises  in  the  heart,  and  which  goes  on  constantly 
increasing.  .  .  .  Remember,  there  is  no  standing  still  in 
religion.  If  you  are  not  going  forward,  you  are  falling 
backward.  Strive  for  greater  eminence  in  religion. 
Labor  to  be  more  constant  in  prayer,  more  exact  in 
self-watchfulness,  more  perfect  in  your  outward  conduct. 
But,  above  all,  strive,  watch,  pray,  to  be  more  pure  in 
heart.  This  is  the  one  thing  needful.  So  far  as  you  fail 
of  this,  though  you  attend  all  the  meetings  in  the  coun 
try,  and  pray  with  the  force  of  a  martyr,  —  nay,  though 
you  die  a  martyr,  —  you  fail  of  religion;  you  come  shoit 
of  the  requirements  of  Christianity.  ...  Do  not  forget 


DIVINITY  HALL.  51 

charity  for  men's  opinions,  defects ;  yes,  for  their  crimes. 
Do  not  slight  and  scorn  a  man  because  you  think  he  is 
less  religious  than  you."  In  December  of  the  same  year 
(1834)  he  writes  further :  "  I  attended  Dr.  Beecher's  six- 
days'  meeting  in  Boston  some  three  or  four  years  ago.  I 
confess  I  derived  much  advantage  from  it;  but  it  was 
too  harsh  a  remedy  for  gentle  souls.  Neither  Christ  nor 
his  apostles  ever  drove  lambs  into  the  fold.  A  storm 
drives,  every  now  and  then,  a  ship  to  land;  but  how 
many  perish  in  the  waters  ! "  The  letter  goes  on :  "  If  it 
is  a  man's  duty  to  be  devout  in  prayer,  it  is  no  less  so  to 
be  devout  in  business.  God  never  commanded  us  to  be 
charitable  and  kind  an  hour  in  the  morning  and  a  little 
time  at  night,  and  suffered  us  to  be  peevish  and  revenge 
ful  all  the  rest  of  the  day.  We  are  not  to  keep  one  day 
holy,  and  defile  all  the  rest." 

Two  more  short  extracts  from  the  letters  to  this  nephew, 
Mr.  Greene,  will  give  a  sufficient  notion  of  his  religious 
mind  at  this  period.  The  first  is  dated  Nov.  14,  1835. 
"  By  religion  I  mean  .  .  .  total  obedience  to  the  will  of 
God  in  all  things,  the  most  trifling  as  well  as  the  most 
important.  This  is  the  religion  of  the  apostles,  the  reli 
gion  of  Christ.  ...  Its  points  are  self-distrust,  meekness, 
cheerfulness^  joy,  faith,  love.  If  any  man  on  earth  has 
cause  to  be  joyful,  it  is  the  Christian."  The  date  of  the 
second  extract  is  June  n,  1834:  "I  consider  a  man's  duty 
to  be  this,  —  to  do  the  most  good  and  the  least  evil  pos 
sible.  But  how  is  this  to  be  done  ?  To  whom  is  this  to  be 
done  ?  A  man  of  tolerable  intellect,  and  of  little  educa 
tion,  quite  late  in  life  becomes  religious ;  feels  an  earnest 
desire  to  *  do  good,'  to  '  benefit  mankind : '  so  he  leaves 
his  business,  and,  half  educated  as  he  is,  becomes  a 
preacher.  Now,  the  man's  motive  may  be  the  best  possi 
ble  ;  his  desire  to  *  do  good '  may  be  worthy  of  angels : 
but  he  entirely  mistakes  the  means  of  assisting  man.  He 
actually  retards  the  growth  of  religion,  and  puts  back  the 
truth,  good  as  his  heart  is." 


52  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Now  for  his  theological  opinions.  In  1833,  as  we  learn 
from  a  letter  to  Mr.  George  T.  Bigelow,  he  is  inclined  to  be 
sarcastical  on  the  subject  of  scepticism ;  and  in  a  long, 
strenuously-underlined  epistle,  caricatures  the  rationaliz 
ing  process,  by  stating  doubts  in  regard  to  the  career  and 
even  the  existence  of  Christopher  Columbus,  though  still 
declaring,  that,  in  his  judgment,  doubt  arising  from  the 
spirit  of  free  inquiry  is  preferable  to  faith  founded  on  preju 
dice.  "  Ignorance  is  not  devotion,  or  the  mother  of  devo 
tion  ;  and  faith  which  is  not  founded  upon  reason  is  not 
faith,  but  folly"  But  he  was  very  slow  in  applying  to  the 
ordinary  Unitarian  creed  of  his  youth  the  results  of  his 
study.  Immediately  on  going  to  Cambridge,  he  writes  to 
his  nephew,  Mr.  Greene,  as  follows :  "  I  believe  there  is 
one  God,  who  has  existed  from  all  eternity,  with  whom 
the  past,  present,  and  future  are  alike  present ;  that  he  is 
almighty,  good,  and  merciful ;  will  reward  the  good,  and 
punish  the  wicked,  both  in  this  world  and  the  next. 

"  This  punishment  may  be  eternal.  Of  course  I  believe 
that  neither  the  rewards  nor  punishments  of  a  future  state 
are  corporal :  bodily  pleasures  soon  satiate  ;  and  may  God 
preserve  us  from  a  worse  punishment  than  one's  own  con 
science  !  I  believe  the  books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa 
ments  to  have  been  written  by  men  inspired  by  God  for 
certain  purposes ;  but  I  do  not  think  them  inspired  at  all 
times.  I  believe  that  Christ  was  the  Son  of  God,  conceived 
and  lorn  in  a  miraculous  manner;  that  he  came  to  preach 
a  better  religion  by  which  men  may  be  saved. 

"  This  religion,  as  I  think,  allows  men  the  very  highest 
happiness  in  this  life,  and  promises  eternal  felicity  in 
another  world.  I  do  not  think  our  sins  will  be  forgiven 
because  Christ  died.  I  believe  God  knows  all  that  we 
shall  do,  but  does  not  cause  us  to  do  any  thing.  I  do  not 
believe  in  total  depravity,  or  that  Adam's  sin  will  be  im 
puted  to  us. 

"  I  believe,  if  a  man  leads  a  good  and  pure  life,  he  will 


DIVINITY  HALL.  53 

be  accepted  with  God.  I  believe  prayer  to  be  an  especial 
duty  man  owes  to  himself.  God  is  not  to  be  benefited  by 
the  paltry  homage  man  can  give  him ;  but  we — we  are  bene 
fited  by  it.  I  think  reading  the  holy  Bible,  attending  church, 
prayers,  professing  religion,  and  pious  conversations,  are 
all  means  of  religion.  ...  I  think  sins  in  the  heart  as  bad 
as  sins  of  the  hand.  .  .  .  This  will,  perhaps,  be  sufficient  to 
show  the  grand  leading  features  of  my  belief."  In  1835, 
when  Mr.  Orville  Dewey  delivered  the  Dudleian  Lecture, 
Mr.  Parker  made  note  of  it  in  his  journal  thus :  "  It  was 
the  best,  perhaps,  I  have  ever  heard,  though  upon  the  least 
interesting  part  of  the  evidences  of  revealed  religion ;  viz., 
1  Miracles.'  He  removed  the  presumptions  against  them. 
The  objections  were  not  only  met,  but  overturned." 

But  the  active  mind  is  at  work.  Here  is  one  of  the  first 
signs  of  it  in  the  journal,  Nov.  2,  1835  :  — 

"Tertullian  I  have  always  looked  upon  with  considerable  jeal 
ousy,  and  believe  he  introduced  more  heresies  and  ridiculous 
doctrines  into  the  Church  than  almost  all  the  other  fathers,  not 
excepting  Austin  (Augustine).  He  first  introduced  the  notion 
that  faith  and  reason  contradict  each  other  naturally.  He 
thought  faith  which  contradicted  reason  was  most  acceptable 
to  God.  Everybody  knows  he  thought  the  soul  material,  &c. : 
he  thought  it  was  sky-blue. 

"I  am  heart-weary  and  reason-weary  of  these  same  doting 
fathers.  They  have  sense  ;  but  it  is  like  some  worthy's  wit,  -^ '  a 
grain  of  wheat  in  a  bushel  of  chaff.'  I  shall  soon  be  done  with 
them,  however  ;  for  the  present,  at  least.  One  of  the  greatest 
proofs  of  the  darkness  of  the  monastic  ages  is  the  folly-admira 
tion  bestowed  on  these  same  nonsense-writers. 

"  Origen  was  not  a  good  Hebrew  scholar ;  and  of  course  his 
principles  of  interpretation  were  bad.  He  did  the  Church  an 
essential  service  by  his  deep  philosophy  and  eloquence.  .  .  . 

"  Jerome  loved  glory  rather  than  truth  ;  was  superstitious  ; 

and  an  introducer  of  important  errors,  both  in  doctrine  and 

interpretation.     He  was  not  a  profound  scholar  in  Hebrew,  or 

even  in  Greek.     He  tasted  of  theology,  rather  than  exhausted 

5* 


54  THEODORE  PARKER. 

it.     He  wrote  his  books  in  great  haste.     Yet  many  good  things, 
they  say,  can  be  gleaned  from  his  seven  folios. 

"  St.  Augustine,  we  all  know,  introduced  more  errors  into  the 
Church  than  any  other  man.  Many  of  his  doctrines  fly  in  the 
face  both  of  reason  and  virtue,  to  extinguish  the  eyes  of  one, 
and  to  stifle  the  breath  of  the  other." 

"  Nov.  17, 1835.  —  Finished  De  Wette's  '  Commentary  on  the 
Psalms.'  .  .  .  He  is  a  fearless  critic  ;  and  a  critic  should  fear 
only  one  thing,  —  a  falsehood.  He  treats  the  Messianic  inter 
pretation  of  the  Psalms  as  a  mere  chimera ;  which  it  is,  in  my 
humble  opinion." 

The  following  passage  from  the  journal  shows  that  all 
this  free-thinking  is  beginning  to  have  its  effect  on  spe 
cial  beliefs  :  — 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that  Jesus  was  a  man  '  sent  from  God,'  and 
endowed  with  power  from  on  high ;  that  he  taught  the  truth, 
and  worked  miracles  :  but  that  he  was  the  subject  of  inspired 
prophecy  I  very  much  doubt.  Does  he  ever  say  so  ?  Admit 
ting  he  did,  may  we  not  suppose  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
truth  of  this  matter  ?  Was  it  necessary  for  him  to  know  how 
much  inspiration  was  meted  out  to  the  ancient  prophets  ?  I 
suppose  him  inspired  by  God  immediately  for  a  certain  pur 
pose.  Could  he  not  accomplish  it  without  understanding  the 
sources  whence  the  ancient  writers  drew  their  doctrines  ? 

"  But,  rejecting  this,  why  should  he  not  accommodate  himself 
to  the  state  of  the  public  mind  ?  .  .  .  I  know  the  above  would 
appear  like  blasphemy  to  many  divines  ;  but  I  must  stand  by 
my  own  master,  not  by  another  man.  My  confidence  in  the 
divinity  of  Christ's  character,  of  the  truth,  the  sufficiency,  of  his 
doctrine,  depends  not  at  all  upon  prophecies  or  visions  or 
dreams. 

"  Had  the  prophets  only  their  authority  to  build  upon,  they 
would  not  have  been  believed.  They  spoke  the  words  of 
ancient  and  notorious  tradition  ;  but  I  find  no  mention  of  their 
divine  inspiration." 

He  finds  stories  of  virgin-births  in  the  legends  of  India, 
Persia,  Greece,  though  he  draws  no  inference  from  them ; 


DIVINITY  HALL.  55 

doubts  whether  Luke,  "  whose  Gospel  we  do  not  now  ques 
tion  in  general,  could,  as  a  foreigner  lately  converted  to 
Christianity,  transmit  credible  accounts  of  the  juvenile 
history  of  Christ ; "  and  is  more  solicitous  to  glorify  the 
spiritual  powers  of  Jesus  than  to  defend  his  miraculous 
birth. 

The  condition  of  Mr.  Parker's  mind  is  best  revealed  in  the 
pages  of  "The  Scriptural  Interpreter,"  a  small  magazine 
designed  for  easy  family  instruction,  commenced  in  1831  by 
Ezra  Stiles  Gannett,  then  the  colleague  of  Dr.  Channing,  but 
abandoned  by  him  on  account  of  failing  health.  In  1835 
it  came  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  Parker  and  two  of  his 
classmates.  They  continued  the  publication,  writing  the 
great  part  of  it  themselves,  till  it  closed  in  1836.  The 
largest  contributor  of  the  three  was  Mr.  Parker.  He 
wrote  constantly  and  frankly,  reporting  the  results  of  his 
studies  in  biblical  interpretations  ;  those  being  the  matters 
he  was  most  interested  in.  His  articles  display  fairness 
and  honesty,  but  give  no  evidence  of  peculiar  boldness, 
and  no  sign  whatever  of  rashness  either  in  speech  or 
thought.  The  papers  have  not  the  intellectual  glow  of 
speculative  controversy,  nor  the  tingling  charm  of  genius : 
they  are  rather  dry  and  dull,  plodding  industriously  along 
over  the  rough  ground  of  criticism  that  lay  between  the 
accepted  Unitarianism  of  the  period  and  the  new  views 
that  had  not  yet  been  avowed,  if  they  had  been  revealed. 
De  Wette,  Eichhorn,  Astruc,  and  scholars  of  the  moderate 
school  of  rationalism,  supplied  the  material.  The  Authen 
ticity  and  Construction  of  the  Pentateuch,  the  Composition 
of  the  Psalms,  the  Dates  and  Ingredients  of  the  Books  of 
Isaiah,  the  Nature  of  Prophecy,  the  Meaning  of  the  so- 
called  "  Messianic  Prophecies,"  were  the  topics  handled. 
Theological  points  were  scarcely  discussed ;  principles  of 
philosophy  were  neither  applied  nor  debated ;  the  themes 
dealt  with  were  rarely  exhibited  in  their  general  aspects ; 
the  question  between  naturalists  and  supernaturalists, 


56  THEODORE  PARKER. 

involving  the  miracle  controversy  which  raged  so  fiercely 
a  few  years  later,  was  not  touched.  There  was  nothing  that 
should  have  disturbed  a  calm  mind.  Mr.  Parker  himself 
demurred  at  accepting  the  positions  taken  by  Hengsten- 
berg  and  other  critics  of  the  rationalistic  school.  He  thinks 
that  De  Wette  makes  the  prodigy  of  the  withered  fig-tree 
easier  of  credence  by  suggesting  that  the  blasting  did  not 
follow  immediately  on  the  curse.  "  Gabler  undertakes  to 
show  that  a  revelation  is  not  possible,  which  seems  utterly 
unphilosophical."  To  Ammon's  argument  that  Moses  could 
not  have  written  the  Pentateuch,  because  that  shows  a  fin 
ished  language,  he  replies,  "  All  that  may  be  true  ;  but  I  do 
not  believe  it."  Goethe's  remark  on  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
is  quoted  admiringly :  "  They  stand  so  happily  combined  to 
gether,  that,  even  out  of  the  most  diverse  elements,  the  feeling 
of  a  whole  still  rises  before  us.  They  are  complete  enough 
to  satisfy,  fragmentary  enough  to  excite,  barbarous  enough 
to  arouse,  tender  enough  to  appease."  "  Delany  believes 
in  the  universality  of  the  Deluge ;  as  who  does  not  ? " 
The  arguments  of  those  who  held  that  the  laws  command 
ing  the  extirpation  of  the  Canaanites  could  not  have  been 
inspired  by  Jehovah  were  not  quite  convincing,  though 
plausible:  "It  must  be  remembered,  the  nations  to  be 
extirpated  were  exceedingly  vicious  and  corrupt ;  and,  if 
suffered  to  remain,  would  doubtless  have  led  away  the 
Jews  from  their  better  faith.  If  nations  are  by  the  divine 
permission  visited  with  earthquakes  and  pestilences,  why 
may  not  the  sword  be  employed  for  similar  purposes  ? " 

The  absence  of  discrimination  in  this  extract,  which 
places  war  and  earthquake  on  the  same  footing ;  the  assump 
tion  that  Jehovah  did  send  both  pestilence  and  war ;  the 
quiet  non-distribution  of  leading  terms,  —  should  have  indi 
cated  that  as  yet  nothing  was  to  be  feared  from  the  audacity 
of  a  heedless  intellect.  But  some  did  fear.  Angry  subscri 
bers  sent  in  their  warning  protests  against  the  destructive 
criticism  that  was  unsettling  one  passage,  book,  prophecy, 


DIVINITY  HALL.  57 

after  another,  till  the  pious  Christian  had  nothing  left  to 
stand  on  but  what  was  in  common  with  the  Deist.  "  Are 
the  theologians  at  Cambridge  determined  to  break  down 
the  prophecies,  and  make  our  blessed  Saviour  and  his  apos 
tles  impostors  and  liars  ? "  was  the  cry  of  the  sentinels  on 
the  walls  of  Zion.  Eminent  divines  shook  their  heads  j 
were  grieved  that  such  an  article  had  been  written.  The 
writer  was  dimly  sorry  for  the  uproar  he  did  not  under 
stand,  but  went  on,  step  by  step,  apparently  seeing  as 
little  as  anybody  else  the  end  toward  which  he  was  tend 
ing,  and  preserved,  both  by  his  mental  fearlessness  and 
his  spirituality  of  faith,  from  any  apprehension  of  dan 
ger.  His  confidence  in  the  truth,  and  in  the  honest  mind's 
power  to  apprehend  it,  was  simple  and  entire.  "  Who  dares 
say  that  the  man  who  will  adhere  to  God's  truth  is  rash  ? 
and  who  will  deny  the  presumption  of  one  who  dares 
depart  from  it?"  This  noble  unconsciousness  kept  him 
safe,  but  made  him,  in  the  eyes  of  sectarians,  unsafe. 

The  time  had  not  come  for  him  to  bring  his  mental  in 
tegrity  to  bear. 

Possibly  one  reason  for  the  slowness  with  which  revolu 
tionary  ideas  took  possession  of  the  future  "  heresiarch " 
may  have  been  the  literary  spirit  that  at  this  period  con 
trolled  him.  His  reading  was  by  no  means  confined  to 
books  of  theology  and  criticism.  He  enjoys  Dante  and 
Tasso.  Goethe  begins  to  interest  him,  as  he  did  all  his 
life.  After  perusing  Mrs.  Austin's  "  Characteristics  of 
Goethe,"  he  writes,  "  I  always  feel  my  flame  growing  dim 
after  such  reading :  it  awakens  a  sense  of  dissatisfaction 
in  the  bosom  that  does  not  down  at  a  moment's  bidding. 
The  translatress  intends  to  place  Goethe  in  a  favorable 
light ;  but  she  does  not  succeed,  in  my  opinion.  I  regard 
the  great  German  literature-giant  as  not  a  little  selfish: 
indeed,  was  not  his  whole  character  based  on  this  feeling  ? 
What  are  we  to  think  of  the  man  who  shuts  himself  in  from 
all  knowledge  of  human  misery?  What  did  he  ever  do 


58  THEODORE  PARKER. 

for  the  cause  of  man?  Voltaire  could  be  benevolent 
and  patriotic :  when  was  Goethe  so  ?  I  am,  however,  but 
little,  nay,  not  at  all,  read  in  his  works  ;  so  forbear  to  judge. 
Heaven  send  it  may  not  be  true  ! "  A  page  or  two  farther 
on  the  criticism  softens  :  "  I  have  a  better  opinion  of  the 
giant  of  Germany  since  reading  this  book  ('Wanderjahre') 
than  before.  An  enemy  of  Christianity  could  by  no  means 
have  written  that  description  of  the  School  of  the  Three 
Reverences,  which  terminates  in  reverence  for  one's  self." 
And  again :  "  Who  can  say  that  Goethe  was  ignorant  of 
religion,  after  having  read  'The  Confessions  of  a  Fair 
Penitent '  ? " 

In  a  correspondence  with  Miss  Susan  Burley,  a  woman  of 
remarkable  literary  acquirements,  he  comments  on  the  char 
acters  of  the  "Jerusalem  Delivered,"  mentions  with  enjoy 
ment  the  "  sweet  little  wild  witch-stories  "  of  Tieck,  and  is 
curious  about  editions  of  Dante.  His  original  repugnance 
to  novel-reading  is  overcome.  The  journal  has  a  page 
and  a  half  of  appreciative  comment  on  "Tom  Jones," 
which  he  wonders  could  have  escaped  him  so  long.  On 
another  page  he  writes,  "  I  have  just  read  '  The  Linwoods/ 
a  very  interesting  novel ;  which  shows  the  woman,  however. 
I  think  it  will  do  good.  Much  good  may  it  do  in  correct 
ing  the  tone  of  society,  which  I  regard  as  villanous  just 
now ! "  "  Bubbles  from  the  Brunnen  "  he  finds  a  delightful 
book;  the  "Gesta  Romanorum"  interest  him,  but  one 
volume  is  enough ;  the  "  Robin-Hood  Ballads  "  carry  him 
off  into  a  dissertation  on  "  Volk-Songs  • "  Ritson's  "  Fairy 
Tales "  amuse  him ;  "  Peter  Simple  "  is  not  at  all  to  his 
taste  ;  Bowring's  "  Poetry  of  the  Magyars  "  tempts  him  to 
make  extracts  ;  Longfellow's  "  Pilgrimage  beyond  the  Sea  " 
is  a  pleasant  after-dinner  book ;  Heine's  "  Germany  "  startles 
him,  —  "  The  writer  must  be  a  man  of  genius,  and  can  be  no 
other  than  a  misanthrope  and  a  not-Christian."  The  list 
is  interminable  :  Southey's  "  Doctor,"  "  Memoirs  of  Ober- 
lin,"  Toulmin's  "  Life  of  Socinus,"  —  all  food  is  nourish- 


DIVINITY  HALL.  59 

ing  to  the  hungry  mind.  He  comes  across  Bulwer's  "  Ri- 
enzi,"  —  "a  fine  work,  full  of  beauty,  truth,  and  nobleness. 
There  is  rather  too  much  of  it."  In  December,  1836,  he 
falls  in  with  "  Pickwick."  Moore's  "  Lalla  Rookh  "  pleases 
him  :  "  I  have  not  lately  been  so  much  delighted  with  any 
poem  as  with  this  little  treasury  of  sweets.  It  is  full  of  the 
East,  redolent  of  its  citron-groves  and  spices,  and  glows 
with  its  fervid  sun  and  burning  soul." 

After  this  the  transition  is  not  so  violent  as  it  would  be 
from  the  Greek  and  Latin  fathers  to  floods  of  verses  from 
his  own  pen.  This  favorite  amusement  of  young  students 
was  indulged  in  freely.  The  titles  will  sufficiently  indicate 
their  character:  "To  L— a,"  "Moral  Beauty,"  "A Vision," 
"Midnight,"  "Gratitude,"  "Prayer,"  "Winter,"  "An  Even 
ing  Hymn,"  "To  Sadness,"  "Two  Songs,"  "Eternity," 
"A  Serenade,"  "Reflections  at  Midnight,"  "Absence," 
"Midnight  Musings,"  "Spring,"  "The  Complaint  of  a 
Lover,"  "  The  Stars,"  "  To  a  Little  Flower,"  "  Morning 
Hymn,"  "The  Rising  Moon,"  "The  Setting  Star,"  "  Stan 
zas,"  and  so  on, — sonnets  and  songs  and  meditations,  in 
various  moods,  easy-going,  often  melodious,  more  often  sen 
timental.  The  author  thought  them  worth  committing  to 
his  journal ;  but  it  would  be  hardly  worth  while  to  print 
them  here.  A  specimen,  however,  must  be  given.  The 
selection  would  be  easier  were  the  pieces  fewer,  or  were  any 
distinguished  by  special  merit  of  sentiment  or  expression. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

The  chiming  of  the  evening  breeze 

That  plays  among  the  boughs  ; 
The  ripple  of  the  purple  seas 

As  Night  her  mantle  throws  ; 
The  unveiling  of  each  timid  star 
That  sheds  its  beauty  from  afar,  — 
All  these  have  voices  for  mine  ear. 


60  THEODORE  PARKER. 

All  nature  cries,  great  God  !  to  thee  ; 

And  I  will  raise  my  voice, 
Uplift  my  feeble  minstrelsy, 

And  bid  my  heart  rejoice. 
Thy  sun  sheds  glory  in  his  light ; 
Deep  darkness  praises  thee  by  night : 
But  'tis  thy  Spirit  makes  delight. 

Great  God  !  accept  the  humble  praise 

A  heart  sincere  would  bring  : 
My  heart's  own  anthem  'tis  I  raise, 

My  soul's  desire  I  sing. 
Glory  to  thee,  all  gracious  Lord  ! 
For  thou  dost  every  gift  afford, 
And  gladd'st  my  spirit  with  thy  word. 

It  is  not  very  good ;  yet  it  is  one  of  the  best.  Mr.  Parker 
had  not  the  poetic  fire  \  though  he  knew  what  it  was.  In 
a  letter  to  Miss  Cabot,  dated  March  14,  1836,  he  says,  "  I 
would  I  had  that  '  dangerous  gift,'  as  some  call  it,  but  which 
Milton  terms  the  'divine  gift,' — the  power  of  the  true  poet. 
He  possesses  such  a  spring  of  ever-living  water  in  his  own 
deep  and  noble  soul,  that  continually  gushes  up  to  his  breast, 
and  wells  out  in  all  his  life.  Who  can  fail  to  admire  that 
profound  enthusiasm  with  which  the  true  poet  regards  all 
nature  ?  Nay,  all  that  lives  and  moves,  or  merely  is,  has  for 
him  a  deep  and  permanent  charmingness.  Go  where  he 
will,  he  sees  Beauty ;  for  she  dwells  in  his  own  breast,  and 
diffuses  her  sweet  influences  over  all  his  eye  rests  upon." 

His  best  poems  are  religious  j  and  the  finest  of  these  are 
the  sonnets  addressed  to  Jesus,  whose  name  never  failed 
to  kindle  his  enthusiasm.  The  first  was  written  in  Decem 
ber  of  this  year. 

"  Jesus,  there  is  no  dearer  name  than  thine, 

Which  Time  has  written  on  his  endless  scroll : 
Nor  wreaths  nor  garlands  ever  did  intwine 
So  fair  a  temple  of  so  vast  a  soul. 


DIVINITY  HALL.  6 1 

Ay,  every  angel  set  his  glowing  seal 

Upon  thy  brow,  and  gave  each  human  grace, 
In  a  sweet  copy  heaven  to  reveal, 

And  stamp  perfection  on  a  mortal  face. 
Once  on  the  earth,  before  dull  mortal  eyes, 

Which  could  not  half  thy  sacred  radiance  see, 
E'en  as  the  emmet  cannot  read  the  skies,  — 

For  our  weak  orbs  reach  not  immensity,  — 
Once  on  the  earth  wert  thou,  a  living  shrine, 
Where  dwelt  the  good,  the  lovely,  the  divine." 

The  "  sentiments  "  and  apothegms  scattered  up  and  down 
the  pages  of  the  Journal  and  Common-Place  Book  disclose 
the  earnestness  of  his  mind  :  — 

"  Faith  is  collective  energy." 

"  By  action  of  the  soul  the  'formless  and  void '  becomes  'very 
good.7 " 

"  Had  there  been  no  monsters  to  subdue,  there  had  been  no 
Hercules." 

"  Love  is  the  perfect  action  of  the  whole  soul." 

"  Egyptian  bondage  brings  Egyptian  darkness." 

"  Nothing  dries  so  soon  as  tears." 

"  He  that  has  a  principle  is  inspired." 

"  Religion  is  the  highest  form  of  love." 

"  Wealth  injures  talent  more  than  poverty.  Under  gold  hills 
and  thrones  perhaps  many  a  spiritual  giant  lies  buried." 

"  Liberty  is  justice  secured." 

"  The  soul,  like  the  magnetic  needle,  ever  trembles  for  an 
embrace  with  God." 

"  Necessity  the  strongest ;  time  the  wisest ;  man  the  greatest." 

"  There  is  a  Solomon  in  every  stupid  man,  a  devil  in  every 
saint." 

"  Artolatry  (bread-worship),  —  that  of  these  times,  which  in 
vert  the  old  order,  and  turn  God  into  bread,  not  bread  into  God." 

"  Faith  must  present  her  credentials  before  she  rules  Reason." 

"  If  you  dare  not  say  what  you  think,  soon  you  will  dare  say 
what  you  do  not  think." 

"  Reason  acknowledges  no  useless  or  dangerous  truths." 

"  If  this  world  were  all,  a  heart  were  a  sad  gift." 
6 


62  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"If  teachers  disclose  truth  as  fast  as  God  reveals  it  to  them, 

there  is  no  danger." 

"  A  new  truth  can  never  do  so  much  harm  as  an  old  error." 

"  God  and  truth  are  always  on  the  same  side." 

"  Man  may  say  what  is  heresy ;    but   God  only  can  tell 

who  is  the  heretic." 

"  Philosophy  js  the  love  of  wisdom ;  Christianity,  the  wisdom 

of  love." 

"  Great  minds  mould  things  to  thoughts :  little  minds  mould 

thoughts  to  things." 

"  A  single  seed  is  the  result  of  all  the  suns  that  ever  shone." 

"  The  faculty  of  love  is  the  measure  of  great  souls." 

"  Laughter  of  fools  is  like  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a 

pot,  which  they  cannot  heat,  only  begrime." 
"  Climbing  plants  are  always  weak." 
"  Avoid  that  society  in  which  it  is  dangerous  to  speak,  and 

painful  to  be  silent." 

This  vein  of  moral  earnestness  crops  out  on  almost  every 
page.  A  passage  from  Plato  suggests  this  comment :  — 

"  What  is  it  proper  for  the  ignorant  to  suffer  from  the  wise  ? 
Learning.  What,  then,  is  due  from  the  good  to  the  bad  ?  Hurt  ? 
Not  at  all.  Goodness  is  due  them.  Is  a  man  bad  :  the  good 
shall  teach  him  goodness.  Penal  legislation  now-a-days  has 
all  the  effect  of  the  purest  injustice  in  driving  the  half-guilty 
to  increased  crime,  and  in  making  doubly  deep  the  hatred  of 
the  revengeful.  I  doubt  not  the  angel  of  humanity  will  beat 
with  her  golden  pinions  all  prisons  to  small  dust." 

One  brief  note  intimates  that  he  had  no  fondness  for 
general  society :  "  A  ball  at  Dr.  Bowditch's :  quite  a  large 
party.  This  balling  is  tedious  business  to  me.  A  walk 
of  four  miles  in  and  four  miles  out  alone,  in  a  terribly 
cold  night,  is  no  joke."  He  takes  kindly  to  vacations, 
however :  — 

"  I  have  passed  the  vacation  (winter  of  1836)  delight 
fully  ;  never  more  so.  Time  has  flown  by  on  silken  pinions. 
I  have  been  at  Boston  most  of  the  time ;  and  to  see  one's 


DIVINITY  HALL.  63 

dearest  of  all  friends  every  day,  and  a  thousand  times  every 
day,  is  heart-ravishing.  Have  been  to  Salem.  Saw  all 
the  lions  of  the  place,  from  the  '  murder-house '  to  *  Deacon 
Giles's  Distillery.'  I  have  made  calls,  and  spent  evenings 
abroad,  almost  without  end.  Indeed,  I  have  completely 
reversed  the  old  order  of  the  day ;  so  that  to  be  at  home  is 
the  exception,  as  it  formerly  was  the  rule.  ...  I  have  been 
up  to  Watertown,  and  staid  some  considerable  time  with 
my  uncle  and  cousins  and  with  Dr.  Francis,  and  have  made 
a  new  acquaintance :  I  mean  Mr.  Bradford.  I  met  him 
at  Mr.  Francis's,  and  walked  to  Boston  with  him :  not  a 
little  delighted  with  the  man." 

This  certainly  shows  a  genial  spirit.  That  same  winter 
he  lectured  in  Concord,  and  passed  part  of  an  evening  with 
Mr.  Emerson  —  "  truly  a  most  delightful  man  "  —  and  his 
wife.  "  He  once  said  of  her,  that  she  was  the  '  soul  of 
faith.'  Of  course  her  life  is  faith  put  in  action  ;  and  what 
more  noble  can  be  said  of  any  one  ?  " 

In  the  month  of  April,  1836,  the  generosity  of  a  friend 
gave  him  the  pleasure  of  a  trip  to  Washington,  through 
New  York  and  Philadelphia.  Nothing  occurred  of  note. 
In  Washington  he  goes  to  the  chambers  of  Congress ;  list 
ens  to  the  debate  on  the  bill  "  for  preventing  the  circulation 
of  incendiary  papers  "  at  the  South  ;  hears  Mr.  King  and 
Mr.  Calhoun;  sees  the  "little  magician"  gliding  round, 
clapping  men  on  their  shoulders,  and  shaking  their  hands, 
—  "  very  artful  and  naughty  "  looking ;  sees  Clay,  tall  and 
homely,  walking  about  in  a  dignified  manner ;  notices  the 
negroes  as  matter  of  course,  and  remarks,  "They  are  a 
queer  set,  these  negroes :  some  of  them  are  very  merry, 
dancing  and  capering  about  on  the  sidewalk  as  if  they  had 
nought  to  do  but  dance.  I  saw  two  negro  lovers  walking 
arm-in-arm,  cooing  and  billing  as  if  they  could  not  restrain 
their  joy  in  one  another's  presence.  Why  should  color 
prevent  them  ? " 

In  this  man,  clearly,  there  are  deeps  of  power  waiting  to 


64  THEODORE  PARKER. 

be  stirred.  The  angel  has  not  descended  to  trouble  the 
waters  :  he  is  expected.  "  What  a  strange  life  is  this  of 
mine  !  How  remarkable  appears  the  course  I  have  run 
when  I  look  back  on  it  from  the  present  moment !  Verily 
*  there's  a  Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends,  rough-hew  them 
how  we  will.'  I  wonder  what  the  Almighty  Parent  designs 
for  me.  Where  wilt  thou,  O  Father !  cast  my  lot  ?  I  would 
not  seek  with  prurient  curiosity  to  invade  the  mysterious 
cabinet  of  futurity ;  but  I  must  confess  that  I  am  by  no 
means  indifferent  to  the  future  which  shall  be  appointed 
me.  But  I  trust  I  shall  be  resigned  to  the  will  of  Om 
nipotence.  At  the  worst,  even,  there  will  be  enough  to  do  : 
this  is  some  consolation  to  one  who  loves  activity,  and 
would  fain  be  useful  to  his  fellows. 

"  Opportunities  for  practical  usefulness  are  always  offer 
ing  themselves  to  the  seekers ;  one,  too,  so  singularly 
blessed  by  Heaven  as  I,  can  carry  with  him  another  ele 
ment  of  felicity,  —  a  companion,  whose  brave  heart  mir 
rors  back  my  own  from  its  celestial  depths.  May  the  Lord 
send  his  blessing  upon  us  wherever  we  are  !  " 

On  June  17,  1835,  ne  writes  to  Miss  Cabot,  "Let  us 
imagine  our  happiness  in  some  new  station  we  are  to 
occupy :  we  shall  see  a  thousand  delights  which  now  re 
fresh  our  whole  soul  only  by  their  images,  —  the  shadows 
which  they  cast  before  them }  and,  when  they  shall  really 
come,  we  shall  be  all  ready  to  receive  them,  and  welcome 
them  to  our  company  like  old  guests.  ...  It  is  delightful 
now  to  imagine  myself  a  minister,  to  recount  the  duties  of 
the  station,  and  consider  all  the  ways  of  performing  them, 
and  the  glorious  satisfaction  of  seeing  God's  work  prosper 
in  my  hand.  I  turn  to  a  home,  —  a  home  of  beauty,  of 
affection,  of  love  ;  to  a  home  where  all  noble  feelings  are 
cherished,  and  all  jarring  interests  and  strife  excluded.  .  .  . 
Calamities  may  fall  upon  that  home,  —  they  come  upon  all 
men ;  each  country  has  its  own  storms  ;  but,  if  it  is  built 
on  the  rock  of  holy  affection,  it  will  stand.  The  floods 


DIVINITY  HALL.  65 

may  pass  over  it :  they  can  never  shake  its  fixed  founda 
tion." 

His  sermons  in  the  Divinity  School  were  dry  and  scholas 
tic  to  a  degree  that  provoked  reproof  from  the  professor, 
to  Theodore's  great  chagrin.  Their  dulness  was  a  sur 
prise.  His  first  public  preaching  in  the  village  church 
was  a  disappointment.  "  I  felt  much  embarrassed ;  though 
perhaps  it  did  not  show  forth.  To  say  the  truth,  I  did  not 
feel  the  sermon  as  much  as  I  usually  do  ;  for  the  hour 
usually  spent  in  preparing  for  the  service  was  consumed 
in  '  doing  the  agreeable.'  May  God  in  his  mercy  grant 
me  power  to  improve  in  this  holy  duty !  May  I  go  on  from 
strength  to  strength,  increasing  continually  in  godliness  and 
wisdom,  and  thus  show  forth  pure  and  holy  Christianity 
in  my  life  no  less  than  in  my  teachings!  O  God!  wilt 
thou  help  me  to  become  more  pure  in  heart,  more  holy,  and 
better  able  to  restrain  all  impetuous  desires  and  unholy 
passions  ?  May  I  *  put  down  every  high  thing  '  that  would 
exalt  itself  against  the  perfect  law  of  God  !  Help  me,  in 
the  intercourse  of  life,  to  discharge  my  duties  with  a  more 
Christian-like  fidelity ;  to  love  thee  the  more,  and  those 
with  whom  I  am  to  deal." 

'"  Visitation  Day  "  was  a  "  day  of  trembling."  The  ser 
vices  in  the  morning  "  went  off  "  well.  His  own  subject 
was  "Gnosticism,"  for  which  he  had  read  Neander  and  Mat 
ter,  and  had  held  conversations  with  the  professor,  from 
which  he  came  away  with  an  unpleasant  impression  of  the 
wise  man's  want  of  candor,  not  to  say  insight.  "  The 
exercises  of  the  afternoon  "  dragged  heavily."  He  was  dis 
pleased  with  a  certain  D.D.,  who  remarked  that  he  had  no 
denominational  character,  but  was  an  eclectic.  "  No  man  can 
thus  set  himself  free  from  his  contemporaries,  and  feel  none 
of  their  influence.  He  may,  indeed,  withdraw  himself  from 
their  meetings,  and  refuse  to  co-operate  with  them ;  but  to 
attempt  to  retire  from  all  sympathy  with  them  is  silly,  and 
to  pretend  to  have  done  it  is  preposterous." 
6* 


66  THEODORE  PARKER. 

His  preparation  at  the  Hall  is  finished.  "  Two  years  and 
three  months  have  passed  speedily  and  pleasantly  away. 
God  has  prospered  me  in  all  my  studies ;  and  I  am  now 
ready  to  go  forth,  but  not  without  dread  and  fear.  What 
an  immense  change  has  taken  place  in  my  opinions  and 
feelings  upon  all  the  main  points  of  inquiry  since  I  entered 
this  place  ! 

"  I  ask  for  thy  blessings,  O  most  merciful  Father !  upon 
all  my  labors  and  studies.  Keep  me  from  sin  and  from 
every  harmful  error." 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE   CANDIDATE. 

ON  leaving  the  Hall,  Theodore  allowed  himself  a 
short  vacation ;  but  it  was  Milton's  "  idle  vacancy  "  now. 
The  relish  for  this  kind  of  indulgence  was  gone.  "  The 
two  weeks  past  have  been  spent  in  loitering  about,  idling 
away  time,  and  living  at  ease ;  now  strolling  about  with 
Lydia,  and  now  picking  cherries  and  flowers  alone.  By 
the  way,  I  have  found  a  flower  that  wants  a  name  in  Dr. 
B.'s  book.  I  have  thus  loitered  about,  doing  almost 
nothing ;  not  profiting  morally,  religiously,  or  even  intel 
lectually,  and  perhaps  but  little  in  body,  considering 
that  I  am  getting  bad  habits  of  early  retiring,  late  lying, 
and  general  indolence.  So  much  for  my  state  of  repose. 
Blessed  be  these  iron  times  !  —  there  is  something 
for  man  to  do;  and,  still  more,  something  for  him  to 
think. 

11  Suppose  not,  my  dearly-beloved  book,  that  I  felt  no 
pleasure  in  thus  passing  time.  I  am  not  so  cold-hearted 
as  to  wander  among  the  gardens  of  the  Graces  with  no 
sense  that  riots,  and  no  soul  that  thrills.  Nay,  my  heart 
has  been  warmed  by  the  sweetest  —  I  had  almost  said, 
the  noblest  —  impulses ;  but  it  does  not  advance  me  in 
the  journey  of  life  as  I  would  wish  to  move.  It  does 
not  allow  my  soul  toN  unfold  its  wings  in  this  fledging- 
place  and  trial-ground,  and  prepare  for  the  lofty  and  dan 
gerous  flight  when  it  must  '  sail  with  uplift  wing  '  against 

67 


68  THEODORE  PARKER. 

tempest  and  storm.  I  have  sterner  deeds  to  do,  greater 
dangers  to  dare.  I  must  be  about  my  work." 

It  was  customary  for  young  preachers,  after  leaving  the 
school,  to  try  their  powers  in  friendly  pulpits  of  older 
men  before  dashing  into  the  broad  "vineyard  of  the 
Lord  "  which  was  waiting  for  reapers.  Theodore  made 
his  first  venture  in  the  desk  of  his  old  friend  Dr.  Francis, 
at  Watertown,  on  July  24,  after  wrestling  with  doubts, 
hopes,  fears,  for  a  month  previous.  "  Not  only  by  day, 
but  in  the  deep  watches  of  the  night,  have  painful  visi 
tations  come  over  me.  Well,  Heaven  be  praised  that  I 
have  once  preached  to  a  real  live  audience,  to  feeling  be 
ings,  and  those  my  very  friends  and  neighbors ! 

"I  am  resolved  to  cast  forth  my  seed-corn  into  the 
ever-busy  working  universe,  that  it  may  bring  forth  as  the 
Lord  pleases.  With  him  is  the  result,  not  with  me." 

His  themes  on  this  occasion  were,  "  The  Necessity  of 
a  Heavenly  Life,"  and  "  Religion  a  Principle  and  Senti 
ment,"  —  vital  topics  both,  bespeaking  less  the  bookworm 
than  the  prophet,  and  vitally  treated,  if  we  may  accept  the 
opinion  of  his  hearers.  The  preacher  says,  "I  have 
heard  enough  of  compliments,  which  come  from  partial 
judges."  The  next  Sunday  he  preached  for  Mr.  Putnam  in 
a  large  and  full  house,  with  a  success  that  surprised  those 
who  had  heard  only  of  his  prodigious  feats  of  learning. 

The  trials  of  the  candidate  were  now  upon  him  :  he 
must  carry  his  wares  to  the  public  market.  After  a  brief 
experience  as  a  peddler  of  gospel  goods,  he  writes  thus  in 
October  to  his  class-mate  Livermore,  who  had  been  happy 
in  finding  an  early  settlement:  "I  rejoice  that  you  are 
already  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  from  the  perils  of  candi- 
dating.  I  have  long  looked  forward  to  this  period  of  my 
life  as  one  full  of  difficulties,  unpleasantness,  and  dan 
gers  j  and  experience  has  taught  me  —  dearly  enough  — 
that  not  a  tithe  of  the  real  evil  was  anticipated.  To  say 
nothing  about  the  bodily  ills  which  attend  this  nomadic 


THE  CANDIDATE.  69 

life  of  a  minister,  there  are  intellectual  evils  of  no  com 
mon  magnitude,  and  difficulties  in  the  way  of  true  spir 
itual  culture  which  are  truly  frightful.  All  of  us  are  so  far 
creatures  of  time  and  space,  and  therefore  accessible  to 
pleasant  sights  and  agreeable  sounds,  that  we  all  have 
some  private  spot,  or  at  least  some  chosen  time,  when  the 
tide  of  feeling  sets  afresh  in  the  heart ;  when,  by  virtue 
of  long  '  use  and  wont,'  our  souls  mount  upward,  and  soar 
straight  into  the  region  of  '  open  vision  '  without  an  effort. 
Now,  how  are  we  not  debarred  of  this  privilege  ?  We  are 
actually  driven,  by  force  of  circumstances,  away  from  these 
'  fountains  of  living  water,'  and  compelled  to  hew  out  for 
ourselves  'broken  cisterns  which  hold  no  water.'  But  I 
will  not  weary  you  with  a  detail  of  those  evils,  which,  I 
bless  God,  you  have  escaped." 

His  first  extended  experiment  was  one  of  four  weeks 
at  Barnstable,  a  seaport  town  on  the  south  side  of  Barn- 
stable  Bay,  supported  mainly  by  fisheries  and  a  coast 
trade.  He  goes  down  in  the  "neat  little  schooner 
1  Sappho,' "  on  a  smooth  sea,  with  favoring  wind.  "  Grace 
fully  the  little  vessel  cut  the  wave."  There  were  about 
twenty  passengers,  mostly  ladies  j  two  young  people  of 
rude  bearing,  who  ate  lemons  and  pickled  limes,  and  who 
gave  him  an  orange  j  and  three  pretty  girls,  two  of  them 
sisters  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Greenwood.  Their  father  was 
with  them,  —  "an  intelligent  and  agreeable  old  gentle 
man,"  with  whom  he  soon  came  to  an  understanding. 
There  was  but  one  cabin,  which  had  to  serve  as  lodge 
ment  and  lounging-room,  during  the  evening  and  night, 
for  the  whole  party.  "  The  ladies  went  down  about  half- 
past  eight ;  for  it  was  cold.  Soon  after  nine  I  descended, 
feet  foremost,  —  perpendicularly  almost.  They  had  gotten 
into  their  several  berths,  and  there  were  lying,  the  cur 
tains  still  undrawn.  I  sat  rather  awkwardly,  and  chatted 
and  laughed  with  them,  who  did  not  seem  at  all  dis 
turbed  by  the  peculiarity  of  the  scene.  By  and  by  I,  too, 


70  THEODORE  PARKER. 

crept  into  a  crib,  —  a  lady  above  me,  another  at  my  head, 
and  a  third  at  my  feet.  I  had  the  poet's  corner.  All 
night  there  was  a  noise,  —  some  getting  up,  others  get 
ting  down ;  roisterous  fellows  carousing ;  children  cry 
ing,  and  mothers  attempting  to  quiet  them.  Sleep  went 
up  the  hatch-way,  but  did  not  find  good  quarters,  and 
so  came  in  with  me,  and  staid  till  nearly  five,  A.M." 

At  Barnstable  he  has'  pleasant  quarters  at  Mrs.  Whit 
man's,  a  lady  of  prepossessing  appearance  and  manners. 
On  Saturday  he  looks  up  two  or  three  of  the  leading 
men,  presents  his  credentials,  and  takes  a  view  of  the 
town.  "  The  houses  are  generally  small,  —  many  of  only 
one  story,  or  one  and  a  half,  —  are  usually  shingled  in 
stead  of  being  clap-boarded,  and  are  not  always  painted : 
many  are  still  of  the  dark  hue  of  the  tarnished  wood. 
Some  are  yellow ;  others  green  or  red ;  a  few  are  white. 
There  are  some  pretty  places.  The  road  winds  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  shore,  and  the  houses  are  built  at 
irregular  intervals  along  its  sides.  There  is  a  pretty  hill 
back  of  the  house,  which  affords  a  good  prospect  in  all 
directions."  On  the  whole,  he  concludes  that  the  town  is 
not,  perhaps,  so  well  adapted  as  some  others  to  a  cultiva 
tion  of  aesthetics,  but  that  ethics  can  be  well  enough 
studied.  Nevertheless,  he  tries  the  Muse  :  — 

"  Day's  weary  portals  softly  close, 

And  slow  the  sun  retires  ; 
And  Night  his  dewy  mantle  throws 
On  Earth's  decaying  fires. 

'Tis  sweet,  my  love,  when  day  is  o'er, 

And  hushed  each  jarring  sound, 
To  turn  and  think  of  thee  once  more : 

It  makes  my  heart  rebound. 

A  quicker  beat  now  fires  my  heart ; 
My  thoughts  now  swifter  glow  "  — 


THE  CANDIDATE.  71 

But  Barnstable  is  no  better  adapted  to  poetry  than  to  aes 
thetics  ;  and  suddenly  the  enraptured  strain  ceases. 

He  presently  suspects  the  place  to  be  spiritually  dead. 
The  people  do  not  seem  willing  to  talk  on  religious  sub 
jects.  Still  he  hopes  to  do  some  good.  The  four  pri 
vate  and  three  public  schools  suggest  an  occupation. 
He  begs  Miss  Cabot  not  to  hang  the  leaden  collar  of 
"  Be  careful  and  not  do  too  much  "  about  his  neck.  He 
walks  eight  miles  a  day,  makes  new  acquaintances,  and 
becomes  interested  in  the  doings  and  feelings  of  the  peo 
ple.  He  ascends  the  hill  daily  for  a  breeze  and  a  view ; 
makes  excursions  to  a  pretty  pond  about  four  miles  dis 
tant  with  Mr.  Drew,  the  schoolmaster ;  goes  to  tea-parties 
at  Capt.  Bacon's  and  elsewhere ;  attends  funerals ;  and 
feels  a  sort  of  mental  crystallization  going  on  within  him. 
Slight  attacks  of  home-sickness  will  visit  the  young  minis 
ter  ;  but  they  decrease  as  he  gradually  gets  acquainted  with 
the  inanimate  creation,  —  the  trees,  hills,  rocks.  He  finds 
several  new  species  of  flowers ;  makes  a  beautiful  collec 
tion  of  salt-crystals ;  the  cows  and  pigs  afford  him  enter 
tainment.  The  qualities  of  the  people  improve  on  closer 
acquaintance.  He  finds  them  not  only  agreeable,  but 
intelligent;  and  begins  to  think  there  is  more  religious 
feeling  than  he  had  hastily  surmised. 

The  open  pulpit  troubled  him  at  first.  The  people  sat 
within  a  table's  width  of  his  chair,  and  looked  in  upon  him 
as  if  they  would  eat  him  up.  The  house  was  good,  easy 
to  speak  in.  He  felt  somewhat  awkward  at  the  beginning, 
but  made  an  effort,  and  not  only  delivered  the  written 
word,  but  "  added  much  that  was  better  and  more  search 
ing,  extemporaneously."  The  people  were  exceedingly 
attentive,  and  showed  their  interest  by  coming  out  in  the 
afternoon  even  better  than  in  the  morning.  The  best 
people  called  on  him,  —  Dr.  Tuck,  Dr.  Mack,  Col.  Under 
wood,  Mr.  Choate,  Deacon  Monroe.  Nobody  spoke  to 
him  about  the  sermon ;  but  Mr.  Reed  —  "  Squire  "  Reed, 


72  THEODORE  PARKER. 

cousin  of  the  Hon.  John  Reed,  Register  of  Probate  "  and 
several  other  things  "  —  said  to  Mr.  Whitman  of  one  of  his 
discourses,  that  it  was  the  greatest  sermon  he  ever  heard. 
Parker  had  the  common  weakness  of  ministers,  —  that  of 
thinking  his  best  sermons  the  least  appreciated.  The 
people  did  not  listen  well  to  his  labored  discourse ;  "  be 
like  they  did  not  understand  it,  which  was  my  fault,  not 
theirs  :  "  but  when  the  "preachment  had  little  thought,  and 
as  little  originality,"  they  were  all  attention.  The  babes 
wanted  milk. 

The  Sundays  were  pretty  full ;  so  were  the  week-days. 
There  were  visitings,  social  parties,  a  fishing-excursion,  trips 
to  Yarmouth,  Hyannis,  &c.  Dr.  Tuck  took  him  to  a  meeting 
of  the  "  Charitable  and  Benevolent  Society,"  where  the  sub 
ject  under  discussion  was  the  abolition  of  capital  punish 
ment.  A  theological  point  that  came  up  brought  him  to  his 
feet,  and  he  spoke  in  favor  of  the  abolition.  All  this  we 
learn  from  his  letters  to  Miss  Cabot,  full  of  pleasant  gossip 
about  things  and  people,  walks,  talks,  rambles,  explorations, 
"jactations,"  and  dejections,  the  whole  of  which  we  would 
copy  if  the  limits  of  this  biography  did  not  forbid. 

Meeting  with  practical  men  does  the  young  student  good. 
This  he  confesses  in  a  letter  to  his  classmate  Silsbee, 
dated  Barnstable,  Aug.  21 :  — 

"  How  disqualified  we  are  for  contact  with  the  real  world  I  felt 
when  first  shown  a  real  live  man  ;  and  when  brought  to  speak 
with  him  I  was  utterly  at  a  stand,  and  scarcely  knew  what  to  say. 
Thus,  indeed,  we  come  away  from  our  three-years'  studies  at 
Divinity  College  with  some  little  knowledge  of  science,  literature, 
philosophy,  peradventure  some  small  inklings  of  theology  and 
metaphysics,  nay,  even  a  little  knowledge  of  the  science  of 
things  in  general,  and  with  beards  on  our  chins,  but  with  no 
other  marks  of  manhood.  Now,  I  maintain,  that,  besides  a  great 
deal  of  knowledge,  one  needs  as  much  skill  to  make  it  of  any 
use  to  him. 

"  This  art  of  things  in  general  I  hope  I  have  made  some  little 


THE  CANDIDATE.  73 

advance  in  since  I  came  to  Barnstable.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  me 
I  have  grown  in  this  regard,  so  that  I  can  really  talk  to  men  as 
if  I  were  also  a  man,  and  not  a  student  merely.  A  mere  student 
is  a  sort  of  homunculus,  an  animal  not  treated  by  Pliny,  except 
incidentally,  when  he  speaketh  of  the  war  they  once  carried  on 
against  their  arch  enemies  the  cranes." 

The  following  encouraging  record  in  the  journal  was  set 
down  about  this  time :  — 

"  It  seems  that  I  have  gained  much  light  within  during  the 
short  stay  I  have  now  made  in  Barnstable  :  it  seems  as  if  the 
wire  had  touched  the  chaotic  liquid,  and  crystallization  had  begun. 
Seasons  occur  in  the  course  of  one's  moral  and  intellectual  his 
tory  when  the  work  of  years  seems  to  be  effected  in  a  few  hours. 
It  seems  to  me  that  Nature  wears  a  new  aspect,  and  life  has  got 
a  new  meaning,  since  I  came  hither.  Well,  if  I  have  learned  any 
duty  more  clearly,  may  Heaven  be  praised  therefor !  " 

A  visit  to  a  Methodist  camp-meeting  at  Eastham  inter 
ested  him.  He  and  his  companion  went  in  a  vessel,  which 
was  cast  away  on  a  sandy  neck  of  land.  Theodore  noted 
the  peculiar  formation  of  the  hills  on  the  neck,  the  light 
house,  the  mountain-cranberries,  a  glutinous  kind  of  fish,  the 
conical  shape  of  the  sand-mountains,  the  lines  of  the  beach, 
the  ship's  regulator,  and  a  great  many  other  things.  Arriv 
ing  at  the  camp-grounds,  his  curiosity  was  all  alive.  "  One 
tent  was  full  of  negroes,  who  were  more  vehement  than  their 
white  brethren.  There  was  occasionally  a  touch  upon 
slavery :  who  wonders  at  it  ?  .  .  .  The  women,  I  noticed, 
were  always  the  most  noisy.  Some  of  them  were  in  hyster 
ics,  I  should  say,  and  should  explain  it  on  well-known 
physiological  principles.  They  said  it  was  the  Spirit. 
How  strangely  men  mistake  the  flesh  for  the  Spirit !  A 
twitching  of  the  nerves  is  often  mistaken  for  inspiration. 
I  was  much  struck  with  the  cold  indifference  of  one 
young  woman,  who  sat  very  quietly  munching  ginger 
bread  while  all  the  process  of  '  bringing  in '  was  taking 
7 


74  THEODORE  PARKER. 

place  around  her.  ...  I  always  noticed  that  the 
least  learned  were  the  most  violent, — had  most  of  the 
*  Spirit  of  the  Lord,'  as  they  said."  The  camp-ground 
presented  a  striking  scene.  There  were  sixteen  large  tents 
arranged  in  a  semicircle  about  the  pulpit,  some  of  them 
containing  more  than  a  hundred  people.  The  woods  be 
hind  were  all  alive.  The  description,  which  is  too  long  to 
copy,  contains  nice  touches  of  humor,  —  the  hideous- 
looking  hay-cart ;  the  queer  carriages,  drawn  by  oxen  or 
horses,  as  happened  to  be  convenient ;  old  Capt.  Brown, 
no  stockings  nor  shoes  on  his  feet,  no  jacket  or  vest, 
pantaloons  rolled  up  to  his  knees,  carrying  one  of  the 
passengers  on  his  back  to  the  cart ;  the  snuff-colored 
man ;  the  major  who  had  had  three  trades  and  three 
wives,  —  one  for  each  trade.  The  two  comrades  walked 
back  to  Barnstable,  thirty  miles,  by  the  sandy  road. 

But,  great  as  was  the  social  activity,  the  mental  activity 
was  even  more  remarkable.  The  dozen  or  so  of  books  he 
brought  with  him  were  soon  exhausted.  He  writes  to 
Miss  Cabot,  "  The  air  of  the  place  braces  my  whole  soul : 
I  could  devour  a  whole  library  in  a  week.  I  think  I 
should  write  three  new  sermons  a  week  all  the  time  I  am 
here  ;  but  I  have  only  enough  of  my  favorite  paper  for  two 
more,  and  I  forbear."  Among  the  books  mentioned  in  the 
journal  as  in  course  of  reading  are  Ackerman's  "  Christ- 
liches  in  Plato ; "  Schelling's  "  Lectures  on  Academic 
Study,"  which  he  finds  fault  with  as  being  too  subjective  ; 
Jahn's  "Vaticinia  Messiana,"  which  seemed  fundamentally 
unsound  in  assuming  the  inspiration  of  all  the  writers  of 
the  Old  Testament ;  Schmidt's  "  Mysticismus  der  Mittel- 
alter."  But  the  most  significant  thing  he  undertook  was 
the  translation  of  De  Wette's  "Introduction  to  the  Old 
Testament."  How  quietly,  yet  with  what  forebodings,  he 
announces  the  beginning  of  this  great  task,  which  was 
destined  to  be  a  monument  of  his  own  industry,  a  test  of 
his  courage,  and  a  mighty  inauguration  of  his  career !  — 


THE  CANDIDATE.  75 

"THURSDAY,  Aug.  n.  —  Finished  another  sermon  on  'The 
Law  of  the  Spirit  of  Life  in  Christ  Jesus.' 

"Began  to  translate  De  Wette's  'Einleitung  in  das  Alte 
Testament.'  I  cannot  tell  what  will  be  the  result  of  this.  I 
shall  leave  that  for  another  time  to  determine.  Meanwhile  I 
will  go  on  translating  it  quietly,  as  I  wish,  without  interrupting 
important  studies." 

On  Monday,  Aug.  28,  his  engagement  being  ended, 
he  took  leave  of  his  friends  in  Barnstable  "with  many 
a  sigh,  and  certainly  with  many  a  wish  that  I  shall  soon 
return  to  them."  They  wanted  him  to  stay  longer ;  but 
he  declined.  His  books  were  exhausted  :  he  was,  for  the 
time,  satisfied  with  the  Barnstable  life ;  and  he  longed, 
as  lovers  will,  for  the  society  of  his  heart's  mistress. 

In  the  months  of  September  and  October  his  letters 
report  him  as  enjoying  the  autumn  scenery,  and  as  interest 
ing  congregations  in  Northfield  and  Greenfield,  —  charm 
ing  towns,  where,  however,  he  would  not  care  to  reside  as 
minister.  We  hear  of  him  also  at  Portland,  Lowell, 
Billerica.  West  Roxbury  has  been  suggested  to  him, 
and  Concord  presents  attractions.  In  September  he 
comes  across  Emerson's  "  Nature : "  criticises  it,  of 
course  ;  finds  fault  with  its  excess  of  idealism,  but  is 
delighted  with  the  overflowing  beauty  and  truth.  "  Blessed 
is  the  man  who  stoops  and  tastes  of  them  !  He  erects 
himself  in  new  vigor  and  freshness,  and  becomes  a  man 
divine."  The  correspondence  of  this  period  is  remarkable 
for  freshness  and  playfulness,  showing  the  healthiest  state 
of  feeling  on  all  subjects.  Read  these  words  to  his 
friend  Silsbee :  "  Is  not  friendship  one  of  the  wells  of 
the  desert,  where  the  pilgrim  cools  his  parched  lips, 
reposes  for  the  time,  and  starts  afresh  in  his  life-journey  ? 
Love  is  the  well  that  stands  by  his  cottage-door.  It  is 
there  in  winter :  it  freezes  not.  It  is  there  in  summer : 
the  drought  never  makes  its  waters  abate.  It  hath  ever  a 
pleasant  flavor  upon  the  palate,  and  a  grateful,  life-giving 


j6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

influence  on  the  whole  inner  man.  I  trust  you  will  soon 
find  this  healing  water,  and,  though  'the  well  is  deep,' 
will  draw  an  abundant  supply." 

Here  is  a  day  in  Northfield  :  "  Rose  at  seven ;  shaved 
and  dressed ;  looked  at  the  newspaper ;  read  the  books 
of  Nehemiah,  Esther,  Solomon's  Song,  first  twelve  chap 
ters  of  Isaiah,  in  English ;  wrote  part  of  a  sermon ;  fin 
ished  a  hundred  and  fifty  pages  of  Allan's  '  Life  of 
Scott,'  two  of  Herder's  '  Brief e.'  Dinner.  Read  in  va 
rious  books  ;  walked  two  or  three  miles  ;  found  a  queer 
plant ;  gathered  about  a  quart  of  chestnuts ;  noticed  the 
peculiar  position  of  some  stratified  rocks.  Dr.  Hall 
dropped  in,  and  asked  me  to  ride.  Took  tea.  Mr. 
Nevers  called;  staid  two  hours  at  least.  Called  with 
Mr.  Allen  at  Dr.  Hall's ;  ascended  Mr.  Pomeroy's  moun 
tain."  There  is  no  mental  sickness  here. 

In  November  he  is  at  Barnstable  again  for  three  Sun 
days,  with  a  plentiful  supply  of  books  and  papers  to 
brighten  the  gloomy  autumnal  days.  The  people  are  glad 
to  see  him ;  his  old  friends  are  cordial ;  the  church  fills 
up,  though  there  is  no  fire  in  it,  and  no  means  for  making 
one.  Chairs  have  to  be  brought  in  to  accommodate 
the  comers.  The  audience  is  attentive  as  ever,  listen 
ing  so  eagerly,  that,  when  a  good  thing  is  said,  their  faces 
look  like  "fires  new  stirred."  They  wanted  to  give  him  a 
"  call ; "  though  some  were  doubtful,  suspecting  the  sound 
ness  of  his  views.  A  meeting  was  arranged  for  the  pur 
pose  ;  but  he,  hearing  of  the  intention,  prevented  it.  "  I 
wish  I  could  divide  myself,  give  them  a  part,  and  take 
the  rest  up  to  some  other  place.  But  one  cannot  give 
away  half  a  mind  any  more  than  half  a  heart;  and  a 
church  is,  doubtless,  as  jealous  as  a  damsel.  I  shall  not 
let  them  give  an  invitation  to  me.  I  am  no  coquette  among 
parishes." 

At  Barnstable  he  receives  intelligence  of  his  father's 
death. 


THE  CANDIDATE.  77 


BARNSTABLE,  Nov.  n,  1836. 

I  received  your  letter,  my  dear  Lydia,  as  I  never  fail  to  do, 
with  unspeakable  pleasure  and  satisfaction  ;  but  if  the  outside 
gave  me  pleasure,  and  the  inside  told  me  what  I  had  long 
expected,  yet  I  cannot  deny  that  the  intelligence  found  me 
unprepared.  I  have,  as  you  know,  long  expected  the  death  of 
him  who  is  now  no  more ;  yet  I  had  fondly  put  off  the  day  of 
his  departure :  and,  when  the  event  was  told  me,  my  grief  and 
sorrow  were  tenfold  greater  than  I  had  expected.  One  never 
knows  when  his  armor  is  strong  enough  for  the  conflict.  We 
know  that  our  friends  must  die,  and  join  the  companions  of 
their  youth.  If  they  are  old,  we  think  that  it  may  come  soon  ; 
and,  if  they  are  feeble  and  sick  at  the  same  time,  we  fear  that 
we  must  soon  wend  on  our  pilgrimage  without  their  kindly  aid. 
All  this  compels  us  to  prepare ;  but,  when  the  dreaded  event 
actually  takes  place,  all  our  resolutions,  our  expected  resigna 
tion,  and  our  imagined  strength,  disappear  like  frost-work  in 
the  sun.  I  do  not  mourn  for  my  father's  sake,  but  for  my  own. 
He  goes  to  meet  his  friends,  to  see  again  his  wife,  his  fathers, 
and  his  children  :  no  doubt  it  is  a  pleasant  meeting.  They  may 
pity  his  long  delay  on  the  earth,  and  rejoice  now  that  he  has  put 
off  the  mortal  to  put  on  the  immortal. 

After  I  read  your  letter,  and  sat  silent  and  lonely  by  my  own 
fire,  I  could  almost  see  his  fathers  of  other  days,  the  wife  of  his 
youth,  and  his  children  and  long-separated  friends,  pressing 
gloriously  around  him  to  press  him  once  more  to  their  hearts. 
Their  shout  and  song  of  welcome  still  ring  in  my  ears.  But, 
as  I  said,  I  lament  not  for  him  :  he  has  no  sigh  to  stifle,  no  tear 
to  wipe  away.  But  how  can  I,  who  have  been  cradled  in  his 
arms,  fed  by  his  hands,  blessed  by  his  prayers,  and  moulded  by 
his  tender  care,  —  how  can  I  forbear  lamenting,  now  he's 
gone  ? 

But  enough  of  this.  We  shall  yet  meet ;  and  I  will  no 
longer  weary  your  soul  with  the  bitterness  of  mine.  He  has 
gone  !  let  us  say  no  more  about  it.  And  now  I  entreat  you  to 
say  nothing  upon  that  subject  in  your  letters,  nor  when  we  meet. 
A  thousand  circumstances  will  bring  it  all  up  before  me  again 
and  again.  Do  not  let  us  multiply  them  without  need,  nor 
foolishly  turn  away  from  them  when  they  occur  naturally :  for 


78  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the  valley  of  tears,  when  dwelt  in,  hath  a  poisonous  influence 
on  the  soul ;  but,  if  only  occasionally  passed  through,  it  is  full 
of  "  healing  waters,"  and  fountains  of  strength. 

The  journal  of  the  8th  of  November  contains  touching 
reflections  on  the  same  event,  and  pictures  the  scene  of  the 
re-union  in  the  other  world.  As  often  as  the  anniversary 
came  round,  it  was  tenderly  remembered.  Years  did  not 
weaken  the  sentiments  of  gratitude  he  cherished  for  his 
father.  In  heavy  and  dark  days,  when  the  battle  raged 
about  him,  and  friends  fell  off,  and  his  heart  trembled, 
the  record  is  passionate  with  feeling:  the  strong  man 
seems  to  stretch  out  his  arms  to  the  revered  shade,  and 
to  hide  his  face  in  the  consoling  bosom.  Something  of 
the  same  emotion  was  excited  by  the  recollection  of  any 
of  his  kindred,  —  brothers  and  sisters  whom  he  had 
scarcely  known,  uncles  -and  cousins  whom  he  had  hardly 
more  than  heard  of.  The  power  of  the  root  is  strong  in 
him :  the  ancestral  fibre  never  loses  its  hold.  He  had  a 
plan  of  exploring  in  England  the  remotest  nooks  of 
family  association,  and  of  placing  some  memorial  on  the 
grave  of  every  ancestor  in  America.  They  were  blood  of 
his  blood :  it  was  a  pride  for  him  to  remember  that  he  was 
blood  of  theirs. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  already,  away  off  at  the 
Cape,  the  young  war-horse  smells  the  coming  battle  afar. 
Mr.  George  Ripley  had  written  an  article  on  Martineau's 
"  Rationale  of  Religious  Inquiry,"  in  "  The  Christian  Ex 
aminer,"  that  had  roused  the  ire  of  an  eminent  ex-professor 
in  the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge  ;  and  the  ex-professor 
had  replied  in  "  The  Boston  Daily  Advertiser,"  rebuking  the 
bold  young  writer  in  imperious  terms.  The  reviewer  re 
plied  the  very  next  day.  Theodore  speaks  his  mind  in  a 
letter  thus  :  — 

"  This  coming  out  in  the  print,  and  denouncing  the  writer  of 
an  article  which  appeared  soberly  and  unostentatiously  in  a  peri- 


THE  CANDIDATE.  79 

odical  with  which  Mr.  N.  had  nothing  to  do,  is  ridiculous. 
A  man  writes  something  which  differs  a  little  from  what  Prof. 
N.  believes,  and,  forsooth,  he  must  come  out  'with  his  sign 
manual,'  and  tell  the  good  people  of  the  land  he  does  not  think 
so  !  What  if  he  does  not  ?  Is  he  the  people  ?  Will  all  truth 
perish  with  him  /  .  .  . 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  Mr.  R.,  I  suggested  that  the  first  one 
who  lifted  a  hand  in  this  work  would  have  to  suffer;  and  I 
wished  to  push  some  old  veteran  German  to  the  fore-front  of 
the  battle,  who  would  not  care  for  a  few  blows  :  but  he  thought 
there  was  no  danger." 

This  was  the  first  gun  in  a  long  battle. 

The  only  incident  set  down  in  the  list  of  events  during 
this  dismal  month  of  November  is  a  visit  to  an  Indian 
settlement  about  twelve  miles  from  the  town.  The  pov 
erty,  squalor,  smoke,  and  stench  of  the  only  real  wigwam 
of  the  settlement,  the  talk  of  the  old  squaw,  need  not  be 
detailed.  The  poor  hag  had  seen  trouble ;  she  said  her 
children  were  dead  :  "  But  she  had  found  the  only  comfort 
which  the  savage  receives  from  the  white  man :  it  peered 
out  from  under  a  bench  in  the  shape  of  *.jug  of  gin  /"  The 
quick  glance  of  the  future  reformer  detects  the  yet  covered 
path  his  manly  foot  is  to  tread. 

The  last  month  of  the  year  was  spent  in  Salem  with  the 
family  of  his  classmate  Silsbee.  He  filled  the  pulpit  of  the 
"  East  Church,"  though  not  as  a  candidate.  The  cultured 
and  friendly  old  town  offered  him  its  choicest  hospitalities. 
The  Silsbee  family  was  large  in  more  senses  than  one. 
The  brightest  and  most  amiable  of  women  and  the  hearti 
est  of  men  were  members  of  it  in  near  or  remote  connec 
tion  j  and  their  social  circle  embraced  the  elegance,  wit, 
and  brilliancy  of  the  city.  Parker  saw  the  best  people, 
and  "  did  more  talking  than  the  whole  family  of  the  patri 
archs  during  their  apocryphal  journey  over  the  waters  of 
the  flood."  Miss  Burley  lived  there  with  her  sparkling 
and  beautiful  nieces,  —  ready  for  all  conversation,  and  very 


8o  THEODORE  PARKER. 

delightful  in  literary  talk,  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederick  Howes 
also,  and  his  classmate  Samuel  P.  Andrews. 

"  I  have  been  as  happy  as  Adam  was  before  he  was  turned 
out  of  paradise ;  nay,  I  mean  that  I  was  much  happier.  .  .  . 
By  the  way,  woman  is  often  abused  by  modern  writers  because 
good  Mother  Eve  did  not  throw  the  apple  in  the  serpent's  face, 
instead  of  being  wheedled  into  eating  it.  But,  if  it  had  been 
offered  to  her  precious  spouse,  he  would  not  have  stood  there 
shall- 1 -shall- 1 -ing,  but  would  merely  have  said,  '  Apples,  indeed ! 
so  early  !  thank  ye,  Mister  Snake ! '  and  would  have  eaten  it 
without  thinking  of  conscience.  Now,  the  sons  of  this  biped 
pique  themselves  upon  being  men,  not  women  ! 

"  Kings  say  they  reign  by  divine  right,  and  impiously  stamp 
'  Rex,  Dei  gratia,'  upon  innocent  copper  :  but  woman  is  the  only 
monarch  that  can  justly  use  these  words,  and  she  may,  —  'I  am  a 
woman  by  the  grace  of  God.''  She  alone  rules  by  divine  right." 

The  mental  exercise  was  as  vigorous  and  various  as  ever. 
There  are  schemes  of  lectures  on  Heine,  Spenser,  the 
Use  of  Nature ;  Notes  on  Public  Instruction  among  the 
Romans  ;  a  Study  on  English  State-Trials  ;  a  Careful  List 
of  Public  Documents  in  England ;  an  Account  of  the  Dif 
ferent  Rolls  from  the  Earliest  Time  ;  Dates  of  the  Dooms 
day  Book,  and  Memoranda  of  the  Libraries  where  such 
Antiquities  are  stored  \  Summaries  of  Statistics  in  regard 
to  the  Social  Condition  of  Germany ;  Births  and  Deaths  in 
Prussia ;  Number  of  Pupils  in  the  Universities  ;  Longevity 
of  the  Professors ;  Proportion  of  Soldiers  to  the  Popula 
tion  in  Europe  ;  Pay  of  Officers  ;  and  so  forth.  Damiron's 
"  Cours  de  Philosophic  "  shares  with  "  Jacob  Faithful "  the 
leisure  hours.  He  transcribes  into  the  journal  a  number 
of  Latin  monkish  hymns  j  apothegms  and  parables  have 
their  place  also.  His  fun  overflows  in  a  ponderous  squib,  — 
"  History  and  Spirit  of  Coxcombry  or  Puppyism,  in  its  Origin 
and  Development ;  from  the  Night-Book  of  Gottesgute  von 
Thiergarten."  The  subject  is  laid  out  in  divisions,  —  Pup 
pyism  in  the  Pulpit,  Puppyism  of  the  Press,  Puppyism  of 


THE  CANDIDATE.  81 

the  Parlor ;  and  through  all  this  flows  the  uneasy  stream 
of  verse,  not  clearing  itself,  alas  !  as  it  flows. 

Studies  in  theology  go  ominously  on.  The  origin  and 
composition  of  the  Pentateuch  is  under  consideration. 
To  this  date  belongs  the  following  schedule  of  labors  to 
be  undertaken :  — 

I.  Sundry  questions  in  theology  :  — 

1.  What  is  the  extent  of  known  supernatural  revelation 

made  to  man  ? 

2.  What  is  the  foundation  of  the  authority  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 

3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  faith  in  Old  and  New  Testament  ? 

4.  How  is  Christ  more  a  Saviour  than  Socrates  ? 

5.  Why  did  the  world  need  a  Saviour  ? 

6.  What  has  been  his  influence  ? 

7.  Is  Christianity  to  be  a  universal  religion  ? 

8.  What  is  the  foundation  of  religion  in  man  ?  the  design 

of  miracles  ?  the  pretence  of  them  in  other  religions  ? 

II    Questions  in  Scriptural  criticism  and  exegesis  :  — 

1.  The  authenticity  of  the  beginning  of  the  Gospels  of 

Matthew  and  Luke.     The  miraculous  conception. 

2.  The  resurrection :  why  was  the  body  of  Christ  raised  ? 

why  "  carried  up  "  ?  How  is  the  resurrection  of  matter 
proof  of  the  immortality  of  spirit  ?  Is  not  the  material 
resurrection  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ  unspiritualiz- 
ing? 

The  questions  in  theology  are  preceded  by  questions  in 
ethics,  less  systematically  drawn  up,  but  suggestive  of  his 
moral  drift :  — 

1.  The  connection  between  the  understanding  and  the  will. 

2.  Foundation  of  the  idea  of  duty. 

3.  Foundation  of  the  idea  of  God. 

4.  The  limits  of  duty. 

5.  Subjective  consequences  of  doing  or  of  omitting  duty. 

6.  Liberty  and  necessity. 

7.  Why  is  man  placed  in  life  ? 

8.  How  great  is  the  difference  in  the  value  of  the  various  means 

afforded  to  attain  the  end  of  life  ?    What  state  best  fitted 


82  THEODORE  PARKER. 

thereto  ?  Are  outward  means  of  any  avail  ?  How  much  ? 
(Compare  the  condition  of  a  Carolinian  slave  and  the  son 
of  a  Boston  merchant,  or  a  New-Zealander  with  a  citizen  of 
Massachusetts.) 

In  close  connection  with  these  questions  are  noble 
thoughts  from  Plato,  and  devout  prayers  for  help  to  lead  a 
consecrated  life :  — 

"  Give  me  an  understanding  heart ;  let  me  not  only  know,  but 
feel,  that  my  duty,  my  nature,  my  destination,  demand  continued 
labor  and  earnest  action. 

"  Give  me  rest  for  my  soul.  Help  me  to  control  impetuous 
passions,  to  rule  my  own  spirit,  to  attain  a  sublime  command 
over  all  appetite  and  desire,  bringing  every  thought  into  subjec 
tion  to  the  law  of  my  being." 

The  cast  of  Mr.  Parker's  religious  philosophy  comes 
out  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  S.  P.  Andrews,  written  Jan.  3, 
1837,  from  Northfield,  where  we  find  him  preaching  :  — 

"  Bowen  has  written  a  piece  in  '  The  Examiner '  on  what  think 
you  ?  Why,  on  Emerson's  '  Nature.'  Pelion  upon  Ossa  is  bad  ; 
Jew  upon  Bacon :  but  Bowen  upon  *  Nature '  caps  the  climax. 
He  has  given  transcendentalism  '•sick  a  lickj  that  it  is  almost 
dead.  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Schelling  appeared  to  me  in  a  vision  of 
the  night,  and  deplored  their  sad  estate.  '  Transcendentalism  is 
clean  gone,'  said  Kant.  '  Verdammt ! '  said  Fichte.  '  What 
shall  we  do  ? '  exclaimed  Schelling.  They  could  not  be  ap 
peased." 

In  February  he  is  at  Greenfield,  the  birthplace  of  his 
friend  George  Ripley.  An  accident  (he  was  thrown  from 
a  sleigh,  and  had  a  narrow  escape  from  serious  hurt)  dis 
abled  him  with  cold  and  headache  much  of  the  time ;  but 
his  letters  are  charming  specimens  of  intelligent  prattle 
about  people  and  scenery.  The  air  inspires  him  ;  the  cool 
wind  from  the  north  braces  his  frame ;  and  the  sight  of 
mountains  and  great  trees  and  wide  meadows  refreshes  the 
inner  man  not  a  little.  The  aspect  of  Nature  in  winter  is 


THE  CANDIDATE.  83 

a  delight  to  him  :  "  In  the  country  there  is  a  tale  in  every 
thing ;  and  every  little  object  in  Nature  hath  its  beauty  to 
please  by,  and  its  moral  to  instruct  with.  Indeed,  the  coun 
try  is  a  great '  system  of  divinity ; '  while  the  city  is  but  a  com 
mercial  dictionary,  a  'ready-reckoner,'  or  a  'cook-book.' 
A  single  walk  along  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  or  among 
the  hills,  or  a  moment's  listening  to  the  kine's  soft  music, 
has  taught  me  more  than  Mr.  Emerson  and  all  the  Boston 
Association  of  Ministers."  The  parish  is  not,  on  the 
whole,  attractive :  the  services  are  held  in  a  court-room, 
and  the  spirit  of  the  place  is  not  congenial  with  his. 
There  were  then  only  about  two  thousand  people  in  the 
town,  and  there  were  five  societies,  —  a  sign  of  sectarian 
activity  and  religious  lethargy  that  was  not  encouraging. 
There  were  agreeable  features  about  the  place ;  and  he  felt 
that  he  might  go  farther,  and  fare  worse  :  but  his  heart  was 
not  drawn  to  it.  The  prospect  of  other  places  was  more 
tempting.  But  for  his  desire  to  be  married,  he  would  have 
preferred  remaining  unsettled  a  year  longer  to  staying  in 
Greenfield,  remote  from  the  active  centres  of  thought. 
The  smallness  of  the  salary  did  not  repel  him :  he  was 
used  to  poverty,  and  was  willing  to  accept  it  on  the  bidding 
of  duty.  But  as  long  as  other  men  could  satisfy  the  peo 
ple  as  well  as  he  could,  or  better,  and  one  who  was  already 
spoken  of  was  comparatively  indifferent  to  salary,  he 
turned  his  face  elsewhere. 

The  fact  is,  he  was  becoming  weary  of  the  candidate's 
aimless  life,  in  which  no  seed  was  watered,  no  field  tilled, 
no  harvest  reaped.  He  wanted  continuous,  energetic  work. 
As  far  back  as  the  previous  October,  he  had  said  to  an 
intimate  friend  who  had  misgivings  in  regard  to  the  minis 
try,  "  I  should  have  been  much  less  surprised  at  finding 
self-doubt  in  my  own  bosom,  for  I  have  still  much  '  unre 
claimed  blood ; '  and  though  I  love  the  ministry  of  Chris 
tianity  with  all  my  heart  and  mind,  yet  I  have  an  affection 
for  silent  vigils,  and  there  is  a  pulse  in  my  heart  that  some- 


84  THEODORE  PARKER. 

times  beats  wildly  for  the  stir  and  noise  and  tumult  and 
dust  of  the  literary  course.".  On  the  i5th  of  February  he 
writes  to  the  same  correspondent,  Mr.  S.  P.  Andrews,  — 

<"  Sometimes,  Samuel,  I  fear  lest  I  have  missed  it  capitally  in 
becoming  a  minister  ;  that  as  a  lawyer,  in  other  departments  of 
thought  and  action,  I  might  have  been  more  useful,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  free  from  a  certain  restraining  bond  (invisible,  but 
strong  as  Fate)  with  which  convention  has  tied  up  every  minis 
ter  withal.  I  do  not  ever  think  of  deserting  a  ministry  which 
would  dignify  angels,  and  has  been  honored  by  the  Son  of  God 
himself.  No :  I  never  think  of  that ;  for  I  deem  it  writ  down 
in  my  duty  to  preach  the  gospel,  come  of  it  what  will.  And 
although  some  of  my  dearest  expectations  have  been  disap 
pointed,  still  I  shall  '  bear  up,  and  steer  with  upright  wing  right 
onward,  nor  bate  one  jot  of  heart  or  hope.'  Yet  sometimes  the 
thought  comes  mightily  upon  me,  '  Thou  hast  mistaken  thy 
calling.'  Yet  think  I  still  there  is  no  employment  so  noble  on 
the  earth  as  the  faithful  attempt  to  give  a  loftier  action  to  hu 
manity,  to  make  men  unfold  the  natures  God  has  given  them, 
and  to  lead  them  to  be  whole  men,  with  no  part  wanting,  and 
not  merely  miserable  halves  and  quarters  of  men,  as  they 
mostly  are,  cultivating  only  a  part,  and  that  the  meanest  part, 
of  their  natures.  It  sometimes  makes  my  heart  bleed  to  think 
of  the  men  whom  the  world  calls  '  happy '  and  *  great,'  but 
whom  I  call  miserable  and  little,  so  much  so  as  never  to  have 
suspected  their  misery  and  littleness.  Now,  if  I  could  remove 
this  frightful  state  of  things,  and  show  men  wherein  true 
strength  lies,  and  divert  them  from  bubble-himting  all  their  days, 
then  gladly  would  I  labor,  spending  and  being  spent.  But 
when  I  consider  how  vast  are  the  obstacles  to  be  removed,  how 
deeply  rooted  is  the  evil,  how  strongly  supported  by  men's 
most  active  principles,  and  how  hotly  it  is  encouraged  by  the 
force  of  the  senses  and  the  wild  intoxication  of  gold  and  ambi 
tion,  and  that  to  all  this  I  can  only  oppose  the  '  foolishness  of 
preaching,'  rendered  still  more  '  foolish '  by  the  foolishness  of 
the  preacher  himself,  by  his  consciousness  of  ignorance,  of  sin- 
fulness,  and  of  weakness,  I  think  the  attempt  almost  a  mad 
one.  It  is  an  attempt  to  try  to  beat  down  Gibraltar  by  throwing 
figs  at  it.  Now,  it  is  mathematically  demonstrable  that  the  rock 


THE  CANDIDATE.  85 

might  be  beat  down  by  throwing  figs  ;  for  a  force  infinitely 
small,  when  put  forth  for  an  infinite  time,  will  overthrow  any 
finite  obstacle,  be  it  never  so  big  :  but  who  would  attempt  such 
a  work  ?  One  sole  thing  encourages  me ;  to  wit,  I  know  that 
one  who  keeps  God's  Maw  of  the  Spirit  of  Life,'  and  puts 
forth  his  might  manfully  in  obedience  thereto,  be  his  might 
never  so  little,  —  be  it  less  than  mine  even,  — has  for  his  friend 
and  ally  and  co-worker  the  entire  almightiness  and  perfect  vir 
tue  of  God  as  much  as  he  who  obeys  the  laws  of  matter 
brings  the  whole  weight  of  the  earth  to  bear  upon  his  wheel  or 
lever  :  and  in  such  a  cause,  with  such  a  coadjutor,  it  is  nobler 
to  be  conquered,  dragged  at  the  wheels  of  the  enemy,  yea,  trod 
den  to  dust  by  his  followers,  who  shout  aloud,  '  Great  is  Mam 
mon  of  the  Yankees ! '  than  to  engage  in  any  other  warfare. 
Therefore  I  shall  go  on.  Consequences  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  :  they  belong  to  God.  He  will  take  care  of  all  consequences. 
To  me  belongs  only  duty.  Come  what  will  come,  I  shall  do  it. 
All  that  I  have  give  I  to  the  one  cause,  be  it  little  or  much." 

Wherever  Mr.  Parker  preached,  he  was  received 
gladly  :  in  most  places  he  was  invited  to  stay.  This  was 
the  case  at  Waltham  and  Concord  and  Leominster ;  but 
the  attractions  of  West  Roxbury  gradually  prevailed 
over  the  rest.  It  was  a  quiet  country  place ;  the  salary 
was  meagre,  —  six  hundred  dollars  ;  the  society  was  small, 
and  composed,  for  the  most  part,  of  plain  people:  but 
the  town  was  near  Boston  and  Cambridge,  and  it  prom 
ised  leisure  for  work  he  had  set  his  heart  on.  Mr.  Fran 
cis  at  Watertown,  and  Mr.  Stetson  at  Medford,  were  not 
far  off.  The  position  was  suggested  to  him  four  or  five 
months  before  this.  He  had  preached  there  several 
times ;  and  when  the  invitation  came,  on  May  23,  it 
was  accepted.  He  was  anxious  for  a  seat  of  activity, 
and  full  of  schemes  for  the  execution  of  which  unin 
terrupted  days  and  nights  were  needed.  The  trans 
lation  of  De  Wette's  "  Einleitung  in  die  Biicher  des  Altes 
Testaments  "  was  finished  on  the  2oth  of  May.  It  must 
be  diligently  revised ;  notes  from  various  writers  are  to  be 
8 


86  THEODORE  PARKER. 

added,  essays  and  dissertations  to  be  appended :  it  will  be 
a  work  of  years  yet.  He  must  have  a  home,  —  a  home  at 
once.  How  eagerly  he  longed  for  it,  how  glowingly  his 
heart  dwelt  on  it,  these  extracts  from  letters  tell :  — 

To  S.  P.  Andrews. 

SALEM,  March  16,  1837. 

.  .  .  With  regard  to  my  marriage  and  the  "  happy  day," 
thereof  I  can  only  say  that  probably  matters  will  be  brought 
to  a  crisis  about  the  2oth  of  next  month.  With  regard  to  my 
feelings  in  approaching  that  moment,  you  may  imagine  them. 
They  are  not  homogeneous,  but  of  a  widely  different  and  vari 
ous  character.  Sometimes  the  fear  predominates  ;  but  usually 
hope  rules  the  balance.  I  look  to  matrimony  as  the  completion 
of  man.  One  cannot  be  a  whole  man  until  married,  but  a  pitiful 
fraction  thereof  merely,  a  manikin.  I  look  forward  to  marriage 
with  reverence. 

I  promise  myself  much  happiness.  How  soon  my  hope  will 
be  destroyed  no  one  can  say.  From  the  character  (both  of 
mind  and  heart)  of  Miss  C.  I  have  every  thing  to  hope,  and 
nothing  to  fear. 

To  the  Same. 

BOSTON,  April  13. 

.  .  .  The  tree  of  life  still  stands  in  paradise,  though  Adam 
and  Eve  be  cast  out,  and  Cain  murders  Abel.  So  sometimes 
I  console  my  spirit  when  I  deem  that  all  my  present  felicity 
may  in  a  moment  turn  into  dust,  bitter  dust,  or  at  least  vanish 
like  the  momentary  rainbow.  So,  indeed,  it  may  be.  Sad  pre 
sentiments  sometimes  spread  their  shadows  over  my  path  ;  but 
I  know  that  two  souls  made  one  by  love,  and  realizing  that 
union,  can  laugh  at  time  and  space,  and  live  united  forever. 
Besides,  Death  is  only  a  kind  angel  with  severe  countenance, 
who  comes  to  bless,  though  with  sighs  and  tears.  .  .  . 

The  above  was  written  three  days  after  his  marriage. 
The  journal  celebrates  the  wedding-day  with  exuberant 
verse  and  tender  prayer,  accompanied  by  a  "  Codex  Matri- 
monianus "  in  Latin,  which  is  inserted  here,  Englished, 
to  show  with  what  conscientious  feeling  he  entered  on 
the  relation  which  so  many  assume  lightly :  — 


THE   CANDIDATE.  87 

"  Since,  by  the  will  of  God,  a  wife  is  to  be  given  me,  it  is 
becoming  that  I  prescribe  for  myself  rules  and  laws.  There 
fore,  by  God's  help,  I  here  resolve,  promise,  and  bind  myself 
steadfastly  to  observe  the  following  regulations  :  — 

1.  Never,  except  for  the  best  of  causes,  to  oppose  my  wife's 

will. 

2.  To  discharge  all  services,  for  her  sake,  freely. 

3.  Never  to  scold. 

4.  Never  to  look  cross  at  her. 

5.  Never  to  weary  her  with  commands. 

6.  To  promote  her  piety. 

7.  To  bear  her  burdens. 

8.  To  overlook  her  foibles. 

9.  To  love,  cherish,  and  ever  defend  her. 

10.  To  remember  her  always  most  affectionately  in  my  pray 
ers  :  thus,  God  willing,  we  shall  be  blessed. 
"APRIL  xx.,  MDCCCXXXVII." 

The  ordination  took  place  June  21,  1837.  Mr.  Francis 
preached  the  sermon ;  the  prayers  were  by  Chandler 
Robbins,  Mr.  Cunningham,  and  Henry  Ware  ;  the  charge 
by  Caleb  Stetson ;  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  by  George 
Ripley.  John  Pierpont  and  John  S.  Dwight  wrote  hymns 
for  the  occasion.  Dr.  Francis  warned  the  young  man  not 
to  neglect  his  studies.  Henry  Ware  prayed,  "  May  his 
fondness  for  peculiar  studies  never  divert  him  from  doing 
Thy  work ! "  Both  admonitions  he  resolved  to  heed. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

WEST   ROXBURY. 

MR.  PARKER'S  situation  at  "  Spring  Street "  —  for  so  the 
place  was  called  —  is  best  described  in  a  few  extracts  from 
letters  to  his  classmate  Silsbee :  "  We  have  a  clever  house, 
a  fine  garden,  a  good  horse.  I  am  at  the  head  of  a  family 
of  seven  souls,  '  to  be,  to  do,  and  to  suffer '  for  them  all : 
no  little  care.  I  have  become  as  practical  as  Stebbins's 
ideal  man ;  always  carry  a  rule  and  compass  in  my  pocket ; 
all  my  '  talk  is  of  bullocks,'  pigs,  grapes,  strawberries,  and 
other  things  which  perish  in  the  using.  .  .  .  Our  neighbors 
are  pleasant :  about  fifty  or  sixty  families  are  in  the  parish ; 
one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  worshippers  ;  the 
people  good,  quiet,  sober,  church-going,  —  capital  listeners, 
none  better ;  so  much  so,  that  I  tell  my  friends  I  think  my 
parishioners  are  as  much  blessed  in  preaching  as  those  of 
even  Dr.  Channing :  for  what  is  wanting  in  preaching  they 
make  up  in  listening ;  which  is  not  the  case  with  the  doc 
tor's  people,  they  depending  altogether  on  him.  The  Sunday 
school  grows  under  my  hand  ;  and  once  in  two  weeks  I 
have  a  teacher's  meeting,  whereat  I  explain  Bible,  which  is 
far  better  for  me  and  them  than  all  preachment :  for  I  aim 
at  the  heart  and  conscience  not  less  directly  than  when  in 
the  pulpit ;  and,  since  there  is  no  formality,  the  matter 
goes  home,  I  trust.  I  preach  abundant  heresies,  and  they 
all  go  down  ;  for  the  listeners  do  not  know  how  heretical 
they  are.  Nay,  I  preach  the  worst  of  all  things,  —  tran- 
83 


WEST  ROXB  UR  Y.  89 

scendentalism,  the  grand  heresy  itself,  —  none  calling  me 
to  account  therefor,  but  men's  faces  looking  like  fires 
new  stirred  thereat."  Besides  this,  pastoral  visits,  which 
were  no  ceremonial  thing  with  Mr.  Parker ;  visitations  of 
schools,  always  a  deep  concern ;  professional  duties,  bap 
tisms,  funerals,  and  the  like,  —  justify  him  in  calling  him 
self  a  busy  man.  The  reading  goes  on  as  usual.  The 
De  Wette  is  progressing  ;  Jacobi,  Henry  More,  the  Life  of 
Apollonius  of  Tyana,  Bulwer's  "  Athens,"  Fichte,  Coleridge, 
Descartes,  are  in  exercise  during  midsummer.  Spinoza, 
Gesenius,  Ovid,  Seneca,  are  in  prospect.  There  is  read 
ing  in  Homer  almost  every  day.  An  engagement  is  made 
to  translate  Ammon's  "  Fortbildung  des  Christenthums," 
four  volumes  octavo  :  this  in  July,  a  month  after  ordi 
nation  !  "  Old  studies  prosper,  —  metaphysics,  theology, 
criticism  :  all  that  used  so  much  to  delight  and  instruct  us 
flourishes  and  grows  apace  in  my  new  situation.  Thoughts 
high  as  heaven  and  profound  as  the  centre  of  the  earth 
sometimes  visit  me  in  my  loneliness.  Then,  too,  the  smiles 
of  love  cheer  and  encourage  me." 

Of  special  value  was  the  society  he  found  at  West  Rox- 
bury,  —  a  small  but  choice  circle  of  elegant,  graceful,  cul 
tivated  people,  used  to  wealth,  accomplished  in  the  arts  of 
life,  of  open  hearts,  and,  better  still,  of  humane  instincts, 
who  lived  in  such  near  neighborhood,  that  a  path  from  Mr. 
Parker's  gate  led  directly  to  their  gardens  and  welcoming 
doors.  The  fine  grounds  of  Mr.  George  R.  Russell  lay 
adjacent  to  his  own  modest  domain  ;  and  adjoining  those 
again  was  the  estate  of  Mr.  Francis  G.  Shaw.  In  both 
families  he  was  at  home  on  the  heartiest  terms.  All  there 
were  his  friends,  faithful  and  sympathetic.  To  be  with 
them  was  always  delightful  and  refreshing ;  for  they  had 
literature  and  art,  an  intelligent  interest  in  public  affairs,  a 
high  tone  of  sentiment,  and  that  rich  flavor  of  character 
which  distinguishes  people  well  bred.  It  was  a  new 
world  for  Theodore,  born  and  bred  in  poverty,  inured 
8* 


QO  THEODORE  PARKER. 

to  toil,  conversant  with  few  persons  to  whom  the  world 
brought  bloom  and  aroma.  These  were  idyllic  days,  — 
golden  hours  spent  on  lawns,  or  under  verandas,  or  in  the 
sweet-scented  hay-fields,  with  youth  and  beauty  and  wit,  and 
literary  enthusiasm,  and  social  merriment.  Discussions  of 
the  newest  book,  the  last  poem,  lecture,  speech,  the  fresh 
est  speculation,  did  not  take  him  from  study,  but  relieved 
the  pressure  thereof  by  entertaining  the  jaded  mind. 

The  neighboring  farms  had  dear  and  intimate  friends, 
whom  he  neglected  no  opportunity  of  seeing  :  old  friends 
were  never  forgotten;  new  ones  were  continually  added. 
His  heart  had  room  for  as  many  as  could  feast  in  it ;  and 
his  hospitality  was  as  big  as  his  heart.  The  "  prophet's 
chamber  "  usually  held  a  guest,  whose  stay  was  encouraged  ; 
the  pleasant  study,  with  flowers  looking  in  at  the  windows 
in  summer,  and  the  sunlight  streaming  through  the  glass  in 
winter,  had  room  for  friends  as  well  as  for  folios,  and  re 
sounded  with  the  noise  of  laughter  many  times  when 
Cranch,  with  the  power  of  a  skilful  caricaturist,  put  Theo 
dore's  grotesque  fancies  on  paper,  or  Francis  greeted  with 
loud  mirth  the  fantastical  descriptions  of  some  brother- 
minister  from  the  host's  rollicking  mind.  The  fun  was 
exuberant  to  wildness,  but  hurt  nobody :  it  was  the  irre 
pressible  overflow  of  a  nature  that  could  not  contain  its 
glee.  It  had  even  its  earnest,  its  pathetic  side,  —  the 
humanity  of  humor.  If  there  was  any  thing  that  Parker 
enjoyed,  it  was  "  taking  off  "  pretenders  ;  but  such  laughter 
was  near  akin  to  tears.  He  had  a  quick  eye  for  qualities. 
Beauty  and  joy  interested  him  ;  but  goodness  interested 
him  more.  "  Opposite  my  house,"  the  journal  says,  "  lives 
a  poor  woman.  Her  husband  labors  on  a  farm  at  a  short 
distance  from  his  home,  and  receives  wages.  They  have 
five  children,  the  oldest  probably  not  more  than  ten  years 
old.  The  family  is  entirely  dependent  on  the  earnings  of 
the  husband.  A  strange  family  came  into  the  village,  —  a 
Mr.  Wallace,  with  his  wife  and  two  small  children.  They 


WEST  ROXBURY.  91 

were  still  poorer  than  the  first  j  and,  to  add  to  their  dis 
tress,  Mrs.  Wallace  was  sick  with  a  pulmonary  consump 
tion,  and '  very  low,'  as  we  say  in  the  country.  Now,  this  good 
woman  finds  out  Mrs.  Wallace,  sees  her  condition,  pities 
her  sufferings,  and  goes  to  help  her.  She  takes  home  the 
little  child,  lest  it  disturb  the  mother  by  its  cries  ;  carries 
home  the  soiled  linen,  washes  and  irons  it.  She  sits  with 

her  by  day  and  night.     Mrs. ,  the  wife  of  my  orthodox 

brother,  came  in  to  visit  her,  prayed  with  her,  and  fright 
ened  the  sick  woman  badly  by  telling  her  her  time  was 
short ;  asking  her  if  she  ever  read  her  Bible,  &c.  It  made 
her  almost  insane  for  two  days.  When  she  slept,  a  weight 
seemed  to  oppress  her  head :  she  saw  frightful  visions, 
pined  for  her  child,  and  has  been  rapidly  growing  worse. 
I  make  no  comment." 

The  absorbing  study  of  this  period  was  the  literature  of 
the  Bible.  The  Egyptian  and  Phoenician  alphabets  have 
attractions  for  him ;  ancient  inscriptions  and  coins,  Car 
thaginian,  Persian,  amuse  him ;  the  Orphic  poems  have  a 
share  of  his  time  ;  Meiner's  book  "  On  the  Doctrine  of  the 
One  God,"  Staiidlin  "  On  the  Morality  of  the  Drama,"  fall 
under  his  notice  :  but  the  Bible  literature  leads  all  the 
rest.  The  works  of  Paulus,  a  great  name  in  rationalistic 
interpretation,  and  of  G.  L.  Bauer,  who  wrote  on  the 
"  Mythology  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,"  are  on  his 
table.  Mr.  George  Ripley,  one  of  the  earliest  students  of 
the  new  German  criticism  and  philosophy,  live  of  mind 
and  warm  of  heart,  lent  him  Eichhorn's  "  Urgeschichte," 
and  a  great  many  volumes  of  rationalism  besides.  Schlei- 
ermacher's  essay  on  Luke  was  one  of  the  most  suggestive 
of  these.  The  famous  work  of  Strauss,  the  "  Leben  Jesu," 
he  was  already  acquainted  with.  The  journal  mentions 
at  some  length  a  fragment  of  a  work  in  Greek  on  "  things 
incredible,"  written  by  one  Palaephatus.  It  was  an 
attempt  to  resolve  the  Greek  mythological  stories  into 
ordinary  transactions:  as,  for  example,  the  horses  of 


92  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Diomedes  devouring  their  master  signifies  the  expense  of 
cultivating  horses,  which  eat  up  the  substance  of  the 
people ;  Lynceus'  piercing  sight  into  and  through  the 
ground  referred  to  the  discovery  of  the  use  of 
metals ;  the  bull  that  carried  off  Europa  was  a  Cretan 
named  Taurus ;  the  hydra  that  Hercules  attacked  was 
a  town  defended  by  fifty  archers  ;  Niobe's  loss  of  her 
daughters,  and  erection  of  a  statue  to  their  memory,  sug 
gested  the  fable  of  the  weeping  marble ;  Scylla  was  a 
swift  piratical  craft  that  infested  the  sea  about  Sicily.  "  I 
have  been  a  good  deal  amused,  and  perhaps  instructed, 
by  the  book.  How  the  priests  must  have  exclaimed 
against  the  '  impious '  book  on  the  day  of  its  appearance  ! 
Such  books  do  good.  I  wish  some  wise  man  would  now 
write  a  book  on  '  things  incredible,'  or  '  vulgar  errors/ 
and  show  up  the  absurdity  of  certain  things  commonly 
believed  on  the  authority  of  old  Jews:  to  be  plain,  I 
mean  the  Old-Testament  miracles,  prophecies,  dreams, 
miraculous  births,  &c." 

But  the  student  did  not  jump  hastily  at  conclusions : 
he  read  carefully,  and  pondered  long,  feeling  his  way 
step  by  step.  He  detected  the  shortcomings  of  Strauss's 
mythical  theory,  and  exposed  the  feebleness  of  Paulus's 
common-sense  explanations.  "  There  is  one  objection  to 
the  assumption  of  myths  in  the  New  Testament ;  viz.,  they 
belong  to  unhistorical  times.  Some  think  myths  may 
exist  even  in  a  literary  people.  For  a  long  time,  there 
was  no  written  account  of  Jesus  Christ :  tradition  en 
larged  in  the  Jewish  style  ;  hence  much  was  added  to  the 
New  Testament.  We  are  not  to  suppose  men  sit  gravely 
down,  saying,  '  Come,  let  us  make  us  a  myth : '  they  were 
formed  gradually.  Some  suppose  there  are  only  philosoph 
ical  myths  in  the  New  Testament ;  others,  only  historical. 
Schleiermacher  calls  the  history  of  the  temptation  a 
parable.  Bauer  thinks  there  are  myths  in  the  New  Tes 
tament  coming  from  the  Old  Testament :  such  are  some 


WEST  R  OX  BURY.  93 

of  the  stories  of  the  youth  of  Jesus,  angels  coming  to 
him,  &c.  Yet  no  man  can  justly  believe  in  myths  in  the 
New  Testament  who  does  not  deny  the  fact  that  it  was 
written  by  contemporaries  or  eye-witnesses."  All  of 
which  shows  an  undecided  mind,  and  indicates,  more 
over,  that  his  interest  in  such  questions  was,  thus  far  at 
least,  rather  literary  than  professional.  The  serious  bent 
of  Mr.  Parker's  mind  was  practical.  Matters  of  exege 
sis  did  not  stir  his  blood  unless  they  were  associated 
with  issues  which  affected  human  relations:  then  they 
became  watch-words  and  battle-cries.  This  time  had  not 
come ;  and  he  read,  re-read,  considered,  commented,  in  a 
scholar's  temper,  with  a  serene  mind.  Such  studies  did 
not  even  occupy  his  thoughts  to  the  exclusion  of  others 
of  a  directly  opposite  kind.  In  the  very  thick  of  them 
we  come  across  statistical  tables  of  population  and  com 
merce  in  Massachusetts.  Two  pages  of  the  folio  journal 
are  devoted  to  a  well-considered  estimate  of  the  com 
parative  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  banks !  Com 
pare  several  of  his  schemes  of  work  :  — 

THINGS   TO   BE  DONE  THIS   WEEK. 

1.  Finish  two  sermons. 

2.  De  Wette. 

3.  Jacobi. 

4.  Fichte  (Ethik). 

5.  Duty  vs.  inclination. 

6.  Commence  the  account  of  Moses. 

7.  Begin  the  translation  of  Ammon's  "  Fortbildung  Christen- 

thums." 

WORK  TO  BE  DONE  THIS   WEEK. 

1.  Plant  the  other  side  of  the  brook. 

2.  Sow  the  garden-vegetables. 

3.  Plough  the  new  land. 

4.  Plant  the  old  alleys. 

5.  Visit  Mr.  Keith  and  Chapin  in  evening. 


94  THEODORE  PARKER. 

6.  See  about  the  Sunday  school. 

7.  Get  the  benches  for  the  vestry. 

8.  Ask  Mr.  Ellis  to  be  superintendent. 

Here  is  work  laid  out  for  a  month  :  — 

1.  Continue  the  translation  of  Ammon. 

2.  Continue  the  study  of  Plato. 

3.  Read  Tasso  and  Dante. 

4.  Iliad. 

5.  Greek  Tragedies. 

6.  Aristophanes. 

7.  Goethe's  Memoirs. 

The  work  of  a  year  is  projected  with  the  same  delib 
eration  :  — 

1.  Finish  the  translation  of  Ammon ;  and  publish,  if  possible. 

2.  De  Wette. 

3.  Course  of  study  on  the  New  Testament. 

4.  Course  of  study  on  the  Old  Testament. 

5.  Progress  in  Syriac. 

6.  Danish  and  Swedish. 

7.  Finish  Plato. 

8.  Continue  the  study  of  Greek  writers. 

9.  Dante  and  .Tasso. 

10.  Spanish  Ballads. 

11.  Commence  the  ideal  work. 

Such  a  man  as  this  is  certainly  in  no  danger  of  becom 
ing  a  "  man  of  one  idea." 

The  tide  of  life  with  him  seems  to  be  at  its  flood  in  the 
summer  and  autumn  of  1837.  Early  in  the  winter,  vapors 
gather  in  the  sky ;  though  from  what  cause  is  not  appar 
ent.  Writing  to  his  friend  Andrews  in  December,  he 
says,  "  You  stated,  in  that  little  bit  of  paper  which  you 
call  a  letter,  that  you  detected  something  in  my  bearing 
which  argued  that  there  was  unhappiness,  at  least  dis- 


WEST  ROXB UR  Y.  95 

content  of  some  sort,  in  the  wind.  I  admit  its  existence 
in  a  greater  extent  than  you  imagine ;  but  of  the  cause, 
not  a  word!  Let  rumor  tell  you :  I  shall  not,  —  not  even 
to  you.  You  may  think  I  talk  lightly :  so  I  do  now ;  but 
there  are  times  when  I  feel  heavily.  I  always  knew  that 
I  had  trouble  enough  in  store  ;  but  I  never  thought  it 
would  come  in  the  present  shape."  About  a  month  later, 
he  puts  down  the  following  in  the  private  journal :  "  I 
have  lost  many  things ;  but  the  greatest  was  hope.  Days 
there  have  been  when  I  saw  nought  else  to  freshen  my 
eye,  weary  with  looking  over  the  dull  waste  of  my  early 
life.  Tired  with  labors,  I  have  laid  down  my  books 
beside  me,  the  lamp  at  summer  midnight  burning  low, 
all  else  silent  in  sleep.  Hope  visited  me.  She  sat  beside 
me  ;  trimmed  my  lamp.  In  her  sublime  presence  I  grew 
calm,  composed  myself  to  her  majestic  features. 

"  Years  have  passed  over  me  :  Hope  never  deserted 
me.  Now  where  is  she  ?  She  is  not  all  gone.  I  see 
her,  but  not  on  the  earth :  she  is  above.  She  shall 
never  again  fade  out  of  my  sight ;  for  she  stands  on  the 
Rock  of  ages. 

"I  often  ask  myself  what  I  am  doing  with  my  one 
talent ;  and  can  only  reply,  that  I  deem  myself  well-nigh 
wasting  it,  —  preaching  to  an  audience  of  seventy  to  a 
hundred  and  twenty  souls  ;  going  about  talking  .tattle 
with  old  women  ;  giving  good  advice  to  hypocrites  ;  and 
scattering  here  and  there,  I  hope,  a  corn  that  will  one 
day  germinate  and  bear  fruit.  Oh,  could  I  be  satisfied 
that  I  am  doing  even  this  last!  If  I  deemed  it  cer 
tain  that  any  word  of  mine  would  ever  waken  the  deep 
inner  life  of  another  soul,  I  .should  bless  God  that  I  am 
alive  and  speaking.  But  I  will  trust.  I  am  sometimes 
praised  for  my  sermons.  I  wish  men  knew  how  cold 
those  sleek  speeches  are.  I  would  rather  see  one  man 
practising  one  of  my  sermons  than  hear  all  men  praise 
them."  After  a  visit  from  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Francis  in  the 


g6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

summer  of  1838,  he  takes  himself  to  task  again.  "I 
have  not  been  in  so  good  spirits  as  usual  to-day:  in 
deed,  for  a  whole  fortnight,  and  that  in  the  most  beauti 
ful  season  of  the  year,  I  have  been  as  good  as  dead." 
But  nothing  of  this  despondency  appears  in  his  letters. 
They  are  full,  fresh,  and  joyous,  without  exception, 
abounding  in  expressions  of  sympathy  with  his  friends, 
and  showering  merriment  on  all  the  incidents  that  occur. 
The  exhaustion  was  temporary.  The  most  incidental 
contact  with  a  cordial  fellow-creature  revived  him.  In 
tellectual  intercourse  was  delightful;  but  human  inter 
course  was  dearer.  The  hunger  of  his  heart  was  even 
more  eager  than  the  thirst  of  his  mind.  In  writing  to  his 
intimate  friends,  he  puts  them  in  his  debt  all  the  time, 
not  only  by  the  number,  but  by  the  length  and  ful 
ness  of  his  letters,  which  crowd  big  sheets  of  paper 
with  the  outpouring  of  his  mind. 

There  was  in  Boston  an  informal  association,  or  club, 
which  met  at  irregular  intervals,  generally  in  the  rooms 
of  Mr.  Jonathan  Phillips,  to  discuss  the  living  questions 
of  the  day,  whether  religious,  political,  social,  or  philo 
sophical.  Dr.  Channing  often  came  in.  George  Ripley, 
Charles  Follen,  Bronson  Alcott,  Frederic  H.  Hedge, 
Wendell  Phillips,  and  others  eminent  in  the  world  of 
thought,  appeared  with  more  or  less  regularity.  The 
journal  has  notes  of  meetings  at  which  Mr.  Parker  was 
present.  They  are  interesting  on  many  accounts. 

"THURSDAY,  Feb.  8,  1838.  —  Went  at  evening  to  Mr.  Phil- 
lips's  room  at  the  Tremont  House  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the 
'  Friends.'  This  is  my  third  meeting  with  them.  The  first  even 
ing,  the  question  of  the  progress  of  civilization  was  discussed  with 
great  power  of  thought  and  richness  of  eloquence,  especially  on  the 
part  of  Dr.  Channing  and  Mr.  Ripley.  The  conclusion  in  which 
all  rested  was  this  :  *  That  a  real  vital  progress  had  been  made  by 
society  since  the  creation,  especially  since  the  time  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
but  that  certain  disadvantages  attended  this  progress :  actions 


WEST  ROXBURY.  97 

passed  at  an  unreal  value  ;  vanity,  love  of  show,  —  in  short,  all 
forms  of  selfishness,  —  were  more  common  than  in  other  days.' 
This  was  a  Socratic  meeting.  Dr.  C.  is  the  Socrates.  Had  the 
conversation  of  this  evening  been  written  out  by  Plato,  it  would 
equal  any  of  his  beautiful  dialogues. 

"  The  next  Wednesday  we  spoke  upon  Mr.  Emerson's  lecture ; 
and  this  led  to  a  discussion  of  the  personality  of  God.  It  was 
thought  Mr.  E.'s  doctrines  were  dangerous  ;  that  he  denied  the 
personality,  which  is,  practically  speaking,  to  deny  the  existence, 
of  the  Deity.  Mr.  Ripley  accused  him  of  maintaining  that  God 
was  only  an  idea  formed  in  the  mind  of  the  individual,  and  then 
projected  into  omnipresence.  It  is  the  idea  of  power,  love,  &c., 
without  any  substance  to  which  these  attributes  belong.  I  take 
it,  Mr.  E.  merely  denies  the  materiality  of  God  :  though  some  of 
his  expressions,  if  taken  singly,  would  almost  justify  the  con 
struction  Mr.  R.  puts  upon  them.  Another  charge  was  that  of 
pantheism  ;  a  charge  so  vague,  that  every  thinking  man  is  liable 
to  it.  Certainly  one  expression  of  his  is  on  the  high  road  to 
pantheism :  '  The  universe,  being  perfectly  beautiful,  exists  by 
its  own  laws,  and  needs  no  outward  cause.'  But  this  sentence 
occurred  in  a  connection  which  belied  such  construction. 

["  Touching  the  personality  of  God,  what  do  we  mean  by  the 
term  ?  Personality  cannot  exist  without  will.  Suffer  all  my  fac 
ulties  to  remain  as  they  are,  but  annihilate  the  will,  I  am  no 
longer  a  person,  an  individual :  I  cannot  say  *  I : '  a  fagot  of 
powers  has  taken  the  place  of  I.  There  are  attributes,  but  no 
substance  to  which  they  belong.  How,  then,  can  I  conceive  of 
God  without  personality  ?  But  is  will  the  only  essential  of  per 
sonality  ?  The  question  is  difficult.  I  conceive  of  God  as  a 
being  easy  of  access,  full  of  tenderness,  whose  character  is 
summed  up  in  one  word,  —  Father.  Now,  the  idea  of  God's  will 
unites  all  these  attributes  into  a  being.  Here,  then,  are  the  attri 
butes  of  God  united  with  a  substance,  —  the  will.  What  is  the 
essence  of  God  ?  I  know  not  what  is  the  essence  of  myself :  I 
cannot  tell.  The  idea  of  God  is  no  more  mysterious  than  that 
of  self :  that  of  the  divine  personality  is  as  clear  as  that  of 
human  personality.  Men  have  always  perplexed  themselves  in 
meditating  on  this  subject.  They  have  come  to  this  conclusion  : 
'  He  is  past  finding  out.'  This  is  variously  expressed  by  the 
thinkers  of  different  ages  and  countries.  '  Search  not  after  the 
9 


98  THEODORE  PARKER. 

essence  of  God  and  his  laws,'  says  the  old  Veda.  God  is  '  Unre- 
vealed  Light,'  *  the  Ineffable,'  « Incomprehensible,'  the  <  Primal 
Being,'  say  the  Gnostics.  '  The  most  real  of  all  beings,'  says 
Plato.  ' himself  without  being.'  So  the  mystic  can  only  say  'I 
am,'  <  He  is.'] 

"  Mr.  Alcott  talks  of  the  progress  of  God,  —  the  Almighty 
going  forward  to  his  own  infinity,  progressively  unfolding  him 
self  :  an  idea  to  me  revolting.  Mr.  H.  utters  oracles  to  the  same 
effect. 

"  This  last  evening  we  discussed  the  condition  of  women, 
especially  in  the  conjugal  relation  ;  our  apparent  coldness  towards 
relatives,  its  causes,  consequences,  and  remedies  ;  our  want  of 
local  attachment ;  want  of  amusements :  yet  the  new  state  of 
things  was  deemed  better  than  the  old. 

"  Before  attending  this  meeting,  I  went  to  Dr.  Channing's, 
staid  a  couple  of  hours,  and  took  tea.  His  conversation  was 
truly  delightful,  —  rather  of  the  nature  of  discussion.  I  felt  there 
was  a  broad  common  ground  between  us,  notwithstanding  the  im 
mense  superiority  of  his  elevation.  We  spoke  of  Dr.  Walker's 
lectures  on  philosophy.  Dr.  C.  thinks  the  lecturer  approaches 
very  near  materialism  himself.  I.  He  speaks  of  thought  as  put 
ting  the  brain  in  action,  as  the  digestive  force  moves  the  stomach, 
and  the  hepatic  the  liver.  Now,  the  digestive  force,  acting  by  the 
stomach,  secretes  chyme ;  the  hepatic  force,  acting  by  the  liver, 
secretes  gall ;  but  thought,  acting  through  the  brain,  secretes  — 
what  ?  Not  thought.  Again :  the  hepatic  and  stomachic  force  is 
physical :  why  not  also  the  cerebral  force  ?  And  then  where  is 
the  spirituality  of  men  ?  II.  He  says  the  attributes  of  matter — 
such  as  solidity,  divisibility,  extension,  attraction  —  are  totally 
unlike  the  attributes  of  spirit,  —  thought,  feeling,  &c.  ;  but  he 
(Dr.  W.)  does  not  show  that  there  is  not  a  common  substance  in 
which  both  inhere.  [This  admitted,  the  essence  of  matter  and 
of  spirit  is  the  same  :  all  matter  is  spirit,  and  all  spirit  is  matter.] 
III.  He  says  the  difference  between  man  and  the  animal  is 
this  :  man  has  spiritual  powers,  existing  for  their  own  sake; 
animals  similar  powers,  existing,  not  for  their  own  sakes,  but 
for  the  sake  of  their  bodies.  Man  thinks.  Why  ?  That  he  may 
think  ;  beasts,  that  they  may  be  fed.  Beast  never  says  '  I ; '  has 
no  personality.  Dr.  C.  agrees  with  this.  [But  how  can  it  be 
known  ?  Can  we  enter  the  consciousness  of  the  horse,  and  learn 


WEST  ROXBURY.  99 

that  he  never  separates  himself  from  all  other  creatures,  and  has 
no  self-consciousness  ?]  We  see  reason  in  brutes,  not  con 
science,  not  religion.  Hence  they  are  mortal. 

"  Dr.  C.  thinks  no  injustice  done  to  brutes  by  their  mortal 
ity,  but  acknowledges  the  difficulty  attending  it." 

These  extracts  show  the  drift  of  speculation  in  New 
England  thirty-five  years  ago,  before  the  modern  school 
of  Darwin  and  others  came  up.  Thus  boldly  did  thinking 
men  form  and  express  opinions  among  themselves,  having 
no  fear  of  each  other.  There  was  an  admirable  freedom 
combined  with  an  equally  admirable  modesty.  Theodore 
listens  and  thinks,  as  courageous  as  any,  but,  perhaps, 
with  something  less  of  the  gravely  intellectual  spirit  that 
entertains  ideas  apart  from  their  sentimental,  moral,  or 
social  relations.  He  hears  that  Mr.  Francis  is  reading  a 
book  by  one  Richter,  a  German,  who  denies  the  immortality 
of  the  soul.  He  is  surprised  to  learn  that  some  ministers  of 
the  gospel  are  disposed  to  agree  with  him.  Yet  he  has 
no  feelings  of  acrimony,  he  falls  into  no  hysterics,  but 
asks  his  friend  to  lend  him  the  book  when  he  has  done 
with  it,  unless  somebody  else  wants  it  more.  Mr.  Parker 
shows  his  hand  this  spring  in  an  article  printed  in  "  Brown- 
son's  Quarterly  Review  "  for  July  on  Dr.  J.  G.  Palfrey's 
"Lectures  on  the  Jewish  Scriptures  and  Antiquities.'* 
The  paper  handled  the  matter  under  discussion  with  a 
freedom  that  many  thought  disrespectful.  The  writer 
declares  that  his  own  hair  stood  up  when  he  thought  of 
what  he  had  written.  He  is  accused,  as  he  was  so  often 
afterwards,  of  being  sarcastic ;  to  which  he  replies  thus  to 
the  friend  who  made  the  charge  :  — 

To  William  Sihbee. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Nov.  27,  1838. 

You  think  there  is  sarcasm.  I  do  not  think  that  is  too  strong 
a  word ;  though  I  never  intended  any  thing  like  it.  I  hate  sar 
casm  ;  yet  am,  perhaps,  sarcastic.  I  wished  to  indulge  in  a  little 


lop  THEODORE  PARKER. 

harmless  pleasantry  ;  but  I  fear  the  dean  would  not  share  in  the 
mirth  he  excited.  You  think  I  indulge  in  the  ludicrous  vein  too 
much  :  such  is  my  propensity,  no  doubt  But  how  ought  things 
to  be  treated  ?  Light  things  lightly,  grave  things  gravely,  ridicu 
lous  things  ridiculously.  I  must  think  ridicule  has  its  place,  even 
in  criticism.  E.  g. :  Suppose  Mr.  Poyer  should  write  a  book  on 
the  miracles  of  the  Saviour,  attempting  to  explain  them  as  the 
result  of  animal  magnetism :  a  critic  might  show  the  attempt 
was  not  successful ;  and  show  also  how  ridiculous  it  was  to 
make  the  attempt,  and  represent  the  Saviour  as  filling  the  five 
thousand  with  a  fancy  they  had  eaten,  and  letting  them  go  off 
under  that  impression. 

To  my  mind,  William,  there  is  something  strange  and  startling 
in  the  assertion,  that  man  has  been  so  constituted,  that  he  can,  by 
the  use  of  his  faculties,  on  condition  of  obedience  to  their  laws, 
achieve  all  the  wonders  of  science,  and  take  the  dimensions 
of  the  planets,  their  where-abouts  and  their  what-abouts,  and 
yet  never  be  able,  by  the  use  of  his  highest  faculties,  —  I 
mean  the  spontaneous  religious  sentiments  (which  Jacobi  some 
times  calls  faith,  sometimes  reason  and  conscience),  —  and  by 
obedience  to  their  laws,  to  learn  religious  truth,  and  to  be 
certain  it  was  tnith  he  learned,  and  not  error.  Is  it  not  most 
of  all  important  for  man  to  settle  the  questions  of  Deity,  to 
possess  religious  truth  and  religious  life  ?  Has  God,  so  bounti 
ful  in  bestowing  other  powers,  given  him  none  to  discover 
these  truths,  the  most  important,  the  most  necessary  ?  When 
the  little  (the  carnal  and  temporary)  is  so  abundantly  provided 
for,  would  the  spiritual  and  eternal  be  neglected  ?  If  I  were 
told  (by  an  angel  from  that  planet)  that  the  inhabitants  of 
Uranus  differed  much  from  us,  that  they  had  seventy  senses 
to  commune  with  the  outer  world,  with  my  present  views  of 
God  I  should  say  with  confidence,  then  must  they  have  seven 
hundred  internal  senses  to  commune  with  God,  and  should 
expect  him  to  add  seven  thousand  !  Is  it  not  the  case,  William, 
that,  while  the  Almighty  takes  such  bounteous  care  of  all  little 
things  that  no  animal  can  be  found  in  utmost  height  or  utmost 
deep,  all  of  whose  wants  are  not  perfectly  satisfied,  —  none  found 
wandering  up  and  down,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none,  —  he 
lays  most  stress  on  the  most  important  of  his  works  ;  giving  to 
man,  e.  g.,  such  uncontested  superiority,  —  reasoning,  social, 
aesthetic,  religious,  and  moral  powers  ?  .  .  . 


WEST  ROXBURY.  101 

I  am  better  satisfied  of  religious  and  moral  truth  than  of  any 
thing  besides.  My  eye  roams  to  the  stars,  and  returns  to  the 
frost  on  my  window  which  reflects  their  light ;  but  the  perception 
only  startles  me  with  its  beauty.  I  can  doubt  the  existence  of 
stars  and  frost-work ;  but  in  religious  truth  I  doubt  nothing. 
The  spirit  affirms.  In  science  I  have  a  root  of  truth  :  in  com 
mon  matters,  where  the  senses  reach,  I  have  only  opinions.  I 
keep  their  laws  ;  but  they  can  give  nothing  more.  In  morality 
and  religion  I  have  TRUTHS  of  which  I  am  perfectly  certain. 
Why  is  it  ?  Because  they  have  been  told  me  ?  But  for  any 
one  of  these  one  thousand  sensual  opinions,  which  are  nothing 
worth  to  me,  —  vox  et  prcsterea  nihil,  —  fleeting  opinions,  I 
have  a  fountain  within  me  whence  to  draw  infinite  supplies  of 
religious  and  moral  truth.  Did  miracles  open  the  fountain  ? 
Did  they  create  it  ?  The  dean  says  there  is  no  such.  .  .  . 

Next  you  ask  if  I  think  a  man  can  attain  to  all  religious  truth 
without  revelation.  No,  no,  no  !  to  none  at  all.  But  how  comes 
the  revelation  ?  It  is  a  revelation  in  consciousness,  made  on  the 
single  condition  that  man  lives  by  the  "law  of  the  Spirit  of 
Life,"  and  always  made  when  the  condition  is  fulfilled.  I  take 
it  that  all  truth  is  revelation  (though,  as  there  are  different  modes 
of  truth,  so  there  are  different  degrees  of  revelation  made  to 
different  men),  and  that  all  revelation  is  strictly  in  conformity 
with  the  law  of  our  being,  and  in  conformity  with  the  highest 
powers  and  laws.  I  am  dependent  upon  God  for  all  things.  I 
have  no  wisdom  without  him.  In  him  I  live  and  move,  &c.  To 
be  without  him  —  i.e.,  to  be  carnally-minded — is  spiritual  death, 
—  death  to  the  truth.  So,  William,  I  believe  no  man  discovers 
truth  without  a  revelation.  So  the  truth  is  not  man's,  but 
God^s.  Did  you  ever  say,  "  That  is  my  truth  "  ?  But  I  believe 
revelation  is  always  made  through  and  by  the  laws  of  the  Spirit, 
and  not  in  a  foreign  way.  Now,  I  cannot  think  the  revelation 
of  Moses  or  of  Jesus  different  in  kind  from  that  of  Numa  or 
Socrates,  but  infinitely  in  degree, 

But  the  truth  flashes  on  the  man.  You  have  felt  such 
revelations.  We  labor  upon  a  thought,  trying  to  grasp  the  truth  : 
we  almost  have  the  butterfly  in  our  hand,  but  cannot  get  it. 
Again  we  try  :  it  will  not  come.  We  walk,  sit,  pray  :  it  will  not 
come.  At  last,  in  some  moment,  it  flashes  on  us  ;  the  crystals 
form  in  a  moment ;  the  work  is  all  done.  Whence  came  it  ?  I 
9* 


102  THEODORE  PARKER. 

do  not  know.  It  is  in  these  burning  moments  that  life  is  lived  : 
the  rest  is  all  drudgery,  beating  the  bush,  planting  and  weeding 
and  watering  ;  this  is  the  harvest-hour.  These  hours  are  few  to 
any  man,  —  perhaps  not  more  than  two  in  a  week ;  but  yet  all  the 
real  thought  of  the  man  is  compressed  into  these  burning  mo 
ments.  The  Methodist  dates  his  new  birth  from  them :  the 
Orthodox  are  attempting  to  reproduce  them  in  four  days'  meet 
ings,  &c.  The  mystic  is  united  to  God  in  these  moments: 
Paul  was  caught  up  to  the  second  heaven.  Now,  I  believe  God 
is  the  fountain  of  truth,  which  overflows  from  him  into  all  minds 
that  lie  low  in  his  power,  wishing  to  feed  these  minds  of  theirs 
in  wise  passiveness.  But  how  this  influence  comes  I  do  not 
know.  I  know  nothing  about  the  manner  in  which  my  soul  is 
connected  with  God :  I  only  know  the  fact.  It  is  a  matter  of 
experience.  My  faith  is  greater  than  myself.  Conscience,  the 
religious  sentiment,  settles  truths  which  I  am  only  to  obey  ;  for 
I  have  no  control  over  them. 

Now  a  word  upon  miracles.  I  believe  most  heartily  the  mir 
acles  of  the  New  Testament,  in  the  Gospels  and  Acts.  Some 
of  them  I  should  explain  as  natural  events  ;  such  as  Paul's  con 
version,  Peter's  liberation,  perhaps  the  death  of  Ananias  (I  doubt 
on  this),  Paul's  wonderful  visits  from  the  angels  :  I  do  not  think 
of  any  others  but  the  gift  of  tongues.  Now,  I  do  not  see  reason 
for  believing  any  of  the  miracles  of  the  Old  Testament.  The 
evidence  does  not  satisfy  me  :  the  occasion  is  not  worthy  of 
them  ;  the  consequence  is  nothing.  All  old  nations  claim  simi 
lar  miracles  (you  remember  those  in  Livy  and  the  Greeks),  which 
rest  on  similar  evidence.  If  any  one  of  the  miracles  (of  the  Old 
Testament)  rested  on  sufficient  evidence,  I  would  believe  it.  Be 
sides,  this  is  to  be  remembered,  —  the  Orientals  never  made  a 
sharp  distinction  between  the  natural  and  the  supernatural :  you 
see  this  in  the  story  of  the  sun  and  the  moon  standing  still ;  and 
often  in  the  Psalms  and  historic  books  they  would  represent 
matters  as  miraculous  which  were  not  so.  They  do  the  same 
now.  .  .  . 

I  would  say  the  same  of  Christian  miracles.  They  relate  to 
the  history,  but  not  to  the  doctrines,  of  Christianity.  Prove  to 
me  that  they  never  took  place,  that  there  never  was  a  Paul  or 
John  or  Jesus,  and  I  will  still  prove  that  Christianity  is  true  :  it 
was  true  before  Jesus  Christ ;  for  it  is  older  than  the  creation. 


WEST  R  OX  BURY.  103 

It  is  true  still.  In  a  word,  its  truth  or  falsity  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  accompanying  miracles,  I  fancy.  It  makes  no  difference 
whether  Socrates  taught  in  a  surtout  or  a  scarf,  by  day  or  by 
night :  his  teaching  was  false  or  true  by  itself.  I  do  not  see 
how  the  doctrines  of  Mosaism  involve  historical  questions. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Aug.  10,  1838. 

...  I  have  never  had  a  summer  of  more  delightful  study 
than  the  present ;  never  found  more  satisfaction  in  theological 
and  philosophical  pursuits.  I  have  solved  many  questions 
which  have  long  perplexed  and  troubled  me  ;  and  have  grown,  in 
some  small  measure,  calmer  than  of  old  time.  Tranquillity  is 
one  of  my  attainable  but  unattained  virtues.  Some  of  my 
inquiries  have  been  historical,  others  critical ;  but  philosophy 
has  given  me  most  delight  this  season.  I  do  not  say  that  the 
greatest  questions  are  yet  solved,  or  ever  will  be.  They  stand 
now  like  fire-breathing  dragons  in  my  path :  I  cannot  drive 
them  away.  But,  though  they  often  heat,  they  never  bite  me. 
Mr.  Francis  says,  in  expressing  his  despair  of  philosophy,  "  It  is 
better  to  give  it  all  up,  and  study  the  facts  of  Nature  with  Kirby 
and  Spence,  and  White  of  Selborne." 

Who  can  do  it  if  he  would  ?  The  sphinx  will  have  an  answer, 
or  you  die.  You  must  read  the  riddle.  Love  of  philosophy 
may  be  "  the  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds  ;  "  but  I  will  cling  to 
it  still.  You  ask  what  effect  my  speculations  have  on  my  prac 
tice  :  you  will  acquit  me  of  boasting  when  I  say,  the  most  de 
lightful,  —  better  than  I  could  hope.  My  preaching  is  'weak 
enough,  you  know ;  but  is  made  ten  times  more  spiritual  and 
strong  by  my  views  of  nature,  God,  Christ,  man,  and  the  Sacred 
Scriptures.  In  my  religious  conversation,  I  tell  men  religion  is 
as  necessary  as  head  to  the  body,  light  to  the  eye,  thought  to  the 
mind.  I  ask  them  to  look  into  their  hearts,  and  see  if  it  is  not 
so.  They  say  I  tell  them  the  doctrines  of  common  sense  ;  and 
it  is  true. 

Questions  are  often  asked  on  heretical  points.  I  had  to  tell 
a  man  the  other  day  that  Paul  was  overtaken  by  a  thunder-cloud 
in  his  Damascus  journey,  &c.  He  said  it  made  it  all  plain.  I 
tell  men  that  Moses  and  the  writers  of  the  Old  Testament  had 
low  views  of  God,  —  the  best  men  could  have  in  those  times : 
they  understand  it,  and  believe  the  New-Testament  account  of 


104  THEODORE  PARKER. 

God.  In  regard  to  Christ,  they  see  a  beauty  in  his  character 
when  they  look  upon  him  as  a  man  who  had  wants  like  theirs, 
trials,  temptations,  joy,  and  sorrows  like  their  own,  yet  stood 
higher  than  the  tempter,  overcome  in  every  trial. 

They  see  the  same  elements  in  themselves ;  but  some  of  them 
almost  despair  of  his  elevation  of  character.  I  can  tell  them 
that  even  he  has  not  exhausted  human  nature  ;  that  what  is  not 
behind  them  is  before  them  ;  that  a  future  is  better  than  a  past ; 
and  that  they,  by  a  faithful  use  of  their  powers,  may  yet  be,  in 
another  world,  as  far  before  Jesus  as  he  is  now  before  them.  I 
dwell  mainly  on  a  few  great  points  :  viz.,  the  nobleness  of 
man's  nature ;  the  lofty  ideal  he  should  set  before  him  ;  the 
degradation  of  men  of  this  time,  their  low  aims,  and  worthless 
pleasure ;  on  the  necessity  of  being  true  to  their  convictions, 
whatever  they  may  be,  with  the  certainty,  that,  if  they  do  this, 
they  have  the  whole  omnipotence  of  God  working  for  them,  as 
the  artist  brings  the  whole  power  of  the  river  to  turn  his  wheel. 
Also  I  dwell  on  the  character  and  providence  of  God,  and  the 
exactness  and  beauty  of  his  laws,  natural,  moral,  and  religious. 
My  confidence  in  the  Bible  is  increased.  It  is  not  a  sealed  book, 
but  an  open  one.  I  consider  there  are  three  witnesses  of  God 
in  creation,  i.  Works  of  Nature :  these  do  not  perfectly  reveal 
him ;  for  we  cannot  now  understand  all  its  contradictions.  2.  The 
words  of  our  fellow-men.  This  confirms  all  the  wisdom  of  all  the 
past.  It  includes  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Parts  of  it  differ  vastly 
in  degree  from  other  writings,  but  not  in  kind.  3.  The  infinite 
sentiments  of  each  individual  soul.  Now,  I  lay  stress  on  the 
first,  but  more  on  the  second,  and  still  more  on  the  third :  for  a 
man  may  have  just  as  bright  revelations  in  his  own  heart  as 
Moses  or  David  or  Paul,  —  I  might  say,  as  Jesus  ;  but  I  do  not 
think  any  man  ever  has  had  such  a  perfect  God-consciousness 
as  he. 

But  Paul  says  the  spirit  searches  all  things,  even  the  "deep 
things  of  God ;  "  and  I  dare  not  fancy  it  can  never  go  beyond 
the  writings  of  the  Old  Testament.  I  find  nothing  in  the  Gos 
pels  that  can  ever  perish.  Paul  mistook  sometimes,  Jesus  never : 
men  no  more  understand  his  words  than  they  can  do  his  mira 
cles.  "  Be  perfect  as  God."  Do  they  know  what  this  means  ? 
No,  no !  My  confidence  in  the  gospel  is  immeasurably  in 
creased.  I  see  that  it  has  meaning,  profoundest  meaning,  in  its 


WEST  ROXBURY:  105 

plainest  figures.  "  He  that  is  greatest  among  you  shall  be  your 
servant."  What  meaning  !  It  will  be  understood  a  thousand 
years  hence,  not  before.  But  I  see  the  gospel  is  human,  but 
infinitely  almost  above  present  humanity.  I  feel  bound  to  com 
municate  my  views  just  so  fast  and  so  far  as  men  can  under 
stand  them ;  no  farther.  But,  if  they  do  not  understand  them 
when  I  propound  them,  the  fault,  I  think,  is  mine,  and  not  theirs. 
I  often  find  it  difficult  to  make  myself  understood  ;  for  I  doubt 
much  you  could  find  a  more  ignorant  set  in  the  State  than  my 
congregation  of  one  hundred  and  twenty.  But  there  are  some 
twenty  who  are  intelligent ;  all  are  moral;  and  I  respect  them  all. 
There-  is  but  little  religious  life  among  them.  My  predecessor 
had  little,  and  could  not,  poor  man  !  impart  what  he  did  not  pos 
sess.  We  will  have  a  long  talk  upon  these  points ;  for  you  know 
the  pen  is  dull  and  cold,  while  the  tongue  is  nearer  the  heart. 
My  heart  and  my  hand  go  together  like  two  turtle-doves,  who 
perch  on  the  same  bough,  and  eat  of  the  same  food,  and  drop 
water  in  one  another's  beaks.  My  religion  warms  my  philoso 
phy,  and  my  philosophy  gives  strength  to  my  religion.  You 
know  I  do  not  boast  in  all  this. 

The  finest  spirits  come  about  him ;  among  the  rest, 
William  Henry  Channing,  —  "a  most  delightful  man,  full 
of  the  right  spirit ;  a  little  diseased  in  the  region  of  con 
sciousness,  but  otherwise  of  most  remarkable  beauty  of 
character  ;  full  of  good  tendencies,  of  noblest  aspirations ; 
an  eye  to  see  the  evils  of  society,  a  heart  to  feel  them,  a 
soul  to  hope  better  things ;  a  willingness  to  endure  all  self- 
denial  to  accomplish  the  end  whereto  he  is  sent;  not 
covered  by  thickest  wrappages,  which  rather  obscure  his 
worthy  uncle,  whom  I  venerate  perhaps  too  much." 

The  intellectual  event  of  the  summer  was  Mr.  Emer 
son's  celebrated  "  Address  "  before  the  graduating  class 
of  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School. 

"THURSDAY,  July  15. — After,  as  usual,  preaching,  Sunday- 
schooling,  teachers'  meetinging,  &c.,  wife  and  I  went  over  to  Brook- 
line,  and  proceeded  to  Cambridge  to  hear  the  valedictory  sermon 
by  Mr.  Emerson.  In  this  he  surpassed  himself  as  much  as  he 


106  THEODORE  PARKER. 

surpasses  others  in  a  general  way.  I  shall  give  no  abstract,  so 
beautiful,  so  just,  so  true,  and  terribly  sublime,  was  his  picture 
of  the  faults  of  the  Church  in  its  present  position.  My  soul  is 
roused  ;  and  this  week  I  shall  write  the  long-meditated  sermons 
on  the  state  of  the  Church  and  the  duties  of  these  times." 

To  George  E.  Ellis,  then  in  Europe,  he  writes,  Aug.  7, — 

"  You  know  Emerson  was  to  preach  the  sermon  before  the 
class.  I  heard  it.  It  was  the  noblest  of  all  his  performances  :  a 
little  exaggerated,  with  some  philosophical  untruths,  it  seemed  to 
me  ;  but  the  noblest,  the  most  inspiring  strain  I  ever  listened  to. 
It  caused  a  great  outcry ;  one  shouting, '  The  Philistines  be  upon 
us  ! '  another,  *  We  be  all  dead  men! '  while  the  majority  called  out, 
1  Atheism  ! '  The  dean  said,  *  That  part  of  it  —  as  I  apprehend 
—  which  was  not  folly  was  downright  atheism.'  " 

Later  he  writes  to  the  same  correspondent,  — 

"  I  sent  you  Emerson's  address  to  the  divinity  students.  It 
Aas  made  a  great  noise.  Mr.  Norton  opened  the  cannonade  with 
a  broadside  aimed  at  Emerson,  Cousin,  Carlyle,  Schleiermacher, 
Shelley,  and  a  paper  called  « The  Western  Messenger.'  This 
provoked  several  replies,  —  one  of  singular  beauty  from  Theophi- 
lus  Parsons  ;  one  from  the  iron  pen  of  Brownson,  in  *  The  Post ; ' 
and  one  from  J.  F.  Clarke,  in  defence  of  the  article  in  '  The 
Messenger.'  Ministers  preached  on  Emerson's  sermon. 
Henry  Ware  delivered  a  sermon  on  the  personality  of  God, 
which,  it  is  said,  Emerson  denies  ;  and  the  students  of  the  Divin 
ity  School  come  out,  cap  in  hand,  and  say,  '  Peccavimus  omnes? 
the  last  class  in  particular,  and  request  Henry  Ware  to  publish 
his  sermon,  which  is  said  to  be  a  very  good  one,  and  to  the  point. 
Brownson  writes  a  fierce  review  in  '  The  Quarterly ; '  which,  after 
all,  is  rather  good  than  bad,  though  it  contains  some  severities. 
Chandler  Robbins  speaks  mildly,  as  his  manner  is,  of  the  whole 
affair,  and  calls  the  vulgar  rant  of  denouncing  Emerson  a 
'  vulgar  clamor '  and  '  the  popular  roar.'  A.  N.  is  indignant 
'thereat ;  and  this  very  minute  I  have  read  a  fourth  article  of  his, 
in  this  morning's  '  Advertiser,'  on  Emerson,  in  which  he  says 
infidelity  and  atheism  have  been  long  preached  by  the  Unitarian 


WEST  ROXB UR  Y.  1 07 

ministers,  —  not  by  all,  but  by  some  few.  All  this  makes  a  world 
of  talk.  It  is  thought  chaos  is  coming  back  :  the  world  is  com 
ing  to  an  end.  Some  seem  to  think  the  Christianity  which  has 
stood  some  storms  will  not  be  able  to  weather  this  gale ;  and 
that  truth,  after  all  my  Lord  Bacon  has  said,  will  have  to  give  it 
up  now.  For  my  part,  I  see  that  the  sun  still  shines,  the  rain 
rains,  and  the  dogs  bark ;  and  I  have  great  doubts  whether 
Emerson  will  overthrow  Christianity  this  time." 

The  air  is  filled  with  "  wild  views."  The  same  letter 
continues :  — 

"  Simmons  was  ordained  last  Tuesday  at  Dr.  Channing's,  as 
evangelist,  to  go  to  Mobile.  Bellows  preached  the  sermon ; 
Dr.  Follen  gave  the  charge,  Ripley  the  right  hand  ;  Walker  read 
the  Scriptures  ;  Henry  Ware  made  the  prayer.  All  was  quite 
transcendental,  except  Mr.  Ware's  part,  which,  of  course,  was 
savory  enough  without  transcendentalism.  The  sermon  is 
described  as  being  particularly  'liberal ; '  the  preacher  maintain 
ing  that  goodness  is  goodness  in  a  heathen  ;  that  an  Esquimau 
would  not  be  turned  out  of  heaven  if  he  were  a  good  and  reli 
gious  man  ;  and  that  a  true  and  sincere  prayer,  though  offered  to 
an  idol,  would  go  to  the  right  place,  for  the  only  God  would  take 
it.  The  discourse  alarmed  and  shocked  the  more  backward  of 
the  brethren  ;  but  the  younger-hearted  were  not  disturbed. 

"  The  other  day  they  discussed  the  question  in  the  Associa 
tion,  whether  Emerson  was  a  Christian.  G.  said  he  was  not, 
and  defended  his  position  :  rather  poorly,  you  may  suppose.  J. 
P.  maintained  he  was  an  atheist.  But  nobody  doubted  he  was  a 
virtuous  and  most  devout  man,  —  one  who  would  enter  heaven 
when  they  were  shut  out.  Of  course,  they  were  in  a  queer  pre 
dicament  :  either  they  must  acknowledge  a  man  may  be  virtuous 
and  yet  no  Christian  (which  most  of  them  thought  it  a  great  her 
esy  to  suppose),  and  religious,  yet  an  atheist  (which  is  a  contra 
diction,  —  to  be  without  God,  and  yet  united  to  God),  or  else 
affirm  that  Emerson  was  neither  virtuous  nor  religious,  which 
they  could  not  prove.  J.  W.  and  N.  L.  F.  thought  he  should  be 
called  a  Christian  if  he  desired  the  name.  Some  of  the  minis 
ters  think  we  need  to  have  certain  <  fundamentals '  fixed  for  us 
all  to  swear  by,  lest  the  new  school  among  the  Unitarians  should 


io8  THEODORE  PARKER. 

carry  the  whole  body  up  to  the  height  of  transcendentalism.  It 
is  notorious  that  the  old  Unitarians,  in  the  days  when  there  was 
fighting  for  the  faith,  had  no  such  fundamentals.  It  is  quite 
evident  there  are  now  two  parties  among  the  Unitarians  :  one  is 
for  progress  ;  the  other  says,  '  Our  strength  is  to  stand  still.' 
Dr.  Channing  is  the  real  head  of  the  first  party :  the  other  has 
no  head.  Some  day  or  other  there  will  be  a  rent  in  the  party : 
not  soon,  I  trust,  however." 

From  all  this  it  will  be  seen  that  Mr.  Parker's  interest 
in  his  profession  was  sincere.  He  was  a  minister ;  and 
nothing  that  concerned  his  ministry  was  indifferent  to 
him.  But  he  interpreted  his  ministry  in  a  large  way,  and 
occupied  himself  with  a  hundred  matters  which  seemed  but 
distantly  related  to  his  calling.  All  literature  in  his  eyes 
was  sacred  literature  ;  all  facts  were  divine  facts.  Scat 
tered  up  and  down  the  pages  of  the  journal  are  curious 
studies  into  the  mysterious  phenomena  of  nature  and  life,  — 
unaccountable  cures,  presentiments,  previsions,  stories  of 
second-sight,  incidents  old  and  new  illustrating  the  con 
nection  between  things  visible  and  things  invisible.  To 
the  last  of  his  life  he  was  gleaning  accounts  of  prophecy 
and  miracle.  His  reading  was  literally  universal  in  its 
range.  He  takes  up  Chapman  the  poet,  Herrick,  Wither, 
Drummond,  Wotton,  Flecknoe, —  from  whom  he  copies 
verses,  —  Surrey,  Suckling:  no  matter  who  ;  there  is  honey 
for  him  in  every  flower.  He  bursts  into  such  glee  on 
hearing  of  More's  poems  from  Dr.  Francis,  that  two 
men  working  in  the  garden  think  him  crazy.  The 
early  Christian  Hymns,  the  Milesian  Fables,  "  Cupid  and 
Psyche,"  Campanella,  biographies  of  Swedenborg  and 
others,  —  these  were  his  mental  recreations.  Richter  he 
read,  but  says  little  about.  Goethe  always  interested 
him  :  "  I  shall  not  dare  attempt  a  mecanique  celeste  of 
Goethe.  The  greatness  of  the  subject  appalls  me.  My 
plummet  will  not  fathom  his  deeps,  nor  will  my  telescope 
reveal  all  his  far  heights.  He  is  so  vast  and  so  many- 


WEST  R  OX  BURY.  109 

sided,  I  am  puzzled,  lost  in  the  labyrinth  of  the  man. 
The  '  Farbenlehre  '  strikes  me  with  amazement.  I  looked 
for  a  fanciful  work,  full  of  ingenious  theories,  —  con 
clusion  before  the  fact,  and  even  against  the  fact ;  but, 
instead,  the  work  is  compact,  systematic,  vigorous.  It 
overthrows  my  old  notion  of  colors.  In  my  notice  of 
Dwight's  translation  of  his  poems,  I  shall  speak  of  Goethe 
only  as  a  poet,  and  confine  myself  mainly  to  his  lyrics, 
'Reinecke  Fuchs '  and  'Hermann  and  Dorothea.'  The 
last  is  my  especial  favorite."  But  he  cannot  get  over  the 
moral  defects  of  the  great  German :  "  Goethe  is  an  artist, 
not  a  man.  .  .  .  His  patriotism  seems  quite  low :  there  is 
no  warm  beat  out  from  his  heart.  .  .  .  Goethe  never  seems 
to  have  looked  on  men  as  brothers.  Most  men  have  a 
technical  standpoint  from  which  they  survey  the  world. 
Ministers  look  on  men  as  things  to  be  converted ;  kings, 
as  things  to  be  ruled.  Goethe  viewed  them,  first,  as  things 
to  minister  to  his  pleasure ;  second,  as  objects  of  art.  '  Go 
to,  now,'  says  he  ;  'let  us  make  us  a  poem.'  His  perfect 
artistic  skill  is  wonderful.  In  his  finished  works  there  is 
scarce  any  thing  in  bad  taste.  ...  He  talks  of  self-renun 
ciation  and  the  like,  but  never  practises  it." 

Through  these  sunny  fields  of  literature  the  torrent  of 
severer  study  ploughs  its  way  on.  Hume,  Gibbon,  Robert 
son,  are  trifles ;  Schleiermacher,  Bouterwek,  Baur,  Hegel, 
Laplace,  Leibnitz,  are  more  serious.  Bopp's  "  Vergleich- 
ende  Grammatik,"  Karcher's  "  Analecta,"  Meiner's  "  His 
tory  of  Religions,"  Rimannus'  "  History  of  Atheism " 
(Latin),  are  samples  of  the  solid  reading.  The  books 
he  has  not  within  reach,  —  Abelard,  for  instance,  and 
Averroes, — he  stretches  out  his  hand,  and  obtains  from 
afar.  Wilkinson  and  Rossellini  are  familiar  to  him. 
Hesiod  he  comments  on  minutely.  No  book  is  men 
tioned  without  some  notice  of  its  contents  and  a  critical 
remark,  which  proves  it  to  have  been  read.  Plato  is  a 
constant  companion.  The  only  notice  of  Shakspeare  we 

10 


HO  THEODORE  PARKER. 

find  is  of  the  Sonnets,  which  delight  him  with  their  glow 
of  feeling.  Is  it  wonderful  that  this  man  now  and  then 
fainted,  and  fell  into  moods  of  sadness  ? 

"Thursday,  Friday,  Saturday.  —  unwell  the  first,  and  sick 
the  two  last,  of  these  days.  Have  had  no  thoughts,  save  on 
Saturday  night,  when  a  real  gush  from  the  heavenly  fount  ran 
through  the  dusty  bed  of  my  brooklet.  It  gives  life ;  and  a 
sermon  is  already  getting  forward  through  its  quickening  influ 
ence.  The  critique  on  Goethe  has  grown  into  shape,  and  sun 
dry  flowers  for  my  picture-poem  have  begun  to  unfold  ;  but  the 
headache  still  lingers,  — 

'  Though  often  took  leave,  yet  seemed  loath  to  depart.' 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  to  be  no  happier  !  I  have  enough  of  the 
outward  of  life  (bating  some  few  sorrows  known  only  to  my 
self)  ;  am  engaged  in  congenial  employment.  I  should  be  much 
happier,  —  pshaw !  I  should  be  much  nobler.  Let  happiness  hap 
pen  as  it  may :  it  is  an  accident,  not  the  essence.  Let  me  be 
more  manly,  true,  simple,  Christian.  I  am  not  doing  my  work : 
I  am  too  idle  ;  too  much  afraid  of  the  world. 

"  This  week  has  been  entirely  wasted.  One  good  hour  of 
thought  a  week  is  all  I  will  ever  ask.  Then  all  the  growth  is 
effected  :  the  rest  is  only  digging  and  watering  and  pruning  and 
lopping.  I  have  had  more  than  one,  —  one  on  Monday,  and 
one  to-night.  Yet  I  have  done  but  little." 

The  special  causes  of  this  occasional  despondency  are 
not  disclosed.  There  was  no  serious  ill-health :  his 
habits  were  regular,  simple,  wholesome.  In  the  pleasant 
weather  he  was  much  out  of  doors,  planting  and  trim 
ming  in  his  garden.  He  took  long  walks,  visiting  Bos 
ton  and  the  neighboring  towns  on  foot;  doing  his  ten, 
fifteen,  and  twenty  miles  a  day  without  fatigue.  In  sum 
mer  his  pedestrian  exploits  would  have  tasked  the  vigor 
of  any  but  a  very  strong  man.  He  once  journeyed  from 
New  York  to  Boston  on  foot,  making  about  thirty  miles  a 
day.  He  walked  easily  through  the  White-Mountain 


WES  T  ROXB  URY.  1 1 1 

region,  ascending  Mount  Washington  from  the  Notch 
and  back  the  same  day ;  and  betimes  the  next  morning 
started  off  for  Franconia.  His  mirthfulness,  the  natural 
overflow  of  animal  spirits,  the  sparkling  wit  and  t  frolic 
merriment  of  his  near  friends  in  West  Roxbury,  the 
variety  of  his  studies,  the  diversion  of  the  lightest  litera 
ture, —  for  Bulwer's  novels,  and  Longfellow's  romances, 
and  Marryatt's  tales,  were  in  his  hands,  —  saved  him  from 
the  oppression  of  overwork.  He  mingled  freely  with 
people ;  was  no  solitary ;  and  the  people  with  whom  he 
had  most  to  do  were  simple-hearted,  plain,  homely  folks, 
whom  he  met  on  the  warm  ground  of  a  common  hu 
manity.  He  was  not  morbid :  there  was  not  a  touch  of 
the  morbid  element  in  his  constitution.  The  cries  that 
broke  from  him,  like  those  voiced  above,  came  partly 
from  his  heart,  and  partly  from  his  soul.  He  was  a  hun 
gry  man,  —  hungry  for  knowledge,  and  hungry  for  affec 
tion.  The  hunger  for  knowledge  could  be  appeased  by 
books  :  of  them  there  were  enough,  and  they  never  failed 
him.  The  hunger  for  affection  was  less  easily  satisfied. 
Wife,  friends,  lovers,  failed  to  provide  bread  enough  for 
him.  His  thirst  for  confidence  and  sympathy  of  the 
genuine  manly  sort  was  literally  insatiable. 

"  At  home  nominally  ;  but,  since  wife  has  gone,  my  home  is 
in  New  Jersey.  I  miss  her  absence  —  wicked  woman  !  —  most 
exceedingly.  I  cannot  sleep  or  eat  or  work  or  live  without  her. 
It  is  not  so  much  the  affection  she  bestows  on  me  as  that  she 
receives  by  which  I  am  blessed.  I  want  some  one  always  in  the 
arms  of  my  heart  to  caress  and  comfort :  unless  I  have  this,  I 
mourn  and  weep.  But  soon  shall  I  go  to  see  the  girl  once 
more.  Meantime,  and  all  time,  Heaven  bless  her !  I  can  do 
nothing  without  Lydia,  —  not  even  read." 

The  fear  that  he  was  to  be  childless  was  exceedingly 
bitter  to  him.  The  children  of  his  friends  he  treated  as 
if  they  were  his  own,  —  petted  them,  gave  them  endear- 


112  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ing  names  ;  but  they  were  not  his  own,  and  they  only 
increased  the  sense  of  vacancy  in  his  heart. 

But  deeper  than  this,  even,  was  the  feeling  of  baffled 
aspirations  which  came  to  torment  him  in  his  hours  of 
suspended  effort.  He  was  not  hungry  for  fame  or  power 
or  riches  ;  but  he  was  hungry  for  attainment ;  and  the 
more  he  attempted,  the  less  he  was  satisfied  with  his 
accomplishment. 

But  these  moods  of  depression  were  comparatively 
few.  Such  passages  as  those  quoted  above  occur,  per 
haps,  a  dozen  times  in  all  the  volumes  of  the  journal ; 
and  they  are  followed  by  words  of  strength  that  seem  to 
rebuke  them.  On  the  same  page  with  these,  as  if  writ 
ten  with  the  same  stroke  of  the  pen,  is  one  of  his 
sketches  of  work  for  the  week  :  — 

1.  Write  a  sermon,  and  finish  one  not  completed. 

2.  Finish  Goethe's  "  Farbenlehre." 

3.  Baur's  "  Gnosis." 

4.  Do  something  to  Ammon. 

5.  Critique,  —  Hebrew  Lexicon. 

6.  Begin  Augusti's  Einleitung  to  A.  T. 

His  enjoyment  of  his  literary  friends  was  intense,  and 
it  was  continual.  He  had  long  and  frequent  talks  and 
walks  with  George  Ripley,  deriving  fresh  vigor  from  that 
cheerful,  buoyant,  accomplished  mind.  Mr.  Ripley  was 
one  of  his  great  stimulators,  as  Dr.  Francis  was,  perhaps, 
his  chief  support,  in  matters  of  pure  erudition.  "  George 
Ripley  and  his  wife  came  to  our  house  Friday,  and  staid 
until  the  next  Friday.  We  were  full  of  joy  and  laughter 
all  the  time  of  their  visit."  His  conversations  with  Dr. 
Channing  on  the  sabbath,  the  New  Testament,  the  char 
acter  of  Jesus,  the  mythical  theory,  the  morality  of  the 
Gospels  as  compared  with  that  of  the  best  heathen,  were 
suggestive.  Channing  was  in  some  respects  the  more,  in 
others  the  less,  conservative.  He  rather  shocked  Theo- 


WEST  ROXBURY.  113 

dore  by  his  doctrine  that  conscience  must  be  educated,  — 
an  idea  which  Theodore  ridiculed,  holding  to  the  infalli 
bility  of  conscience,  and  maintaining  that  it  will  always 
decide  rightly,  if  the  case  is  fairly  put  before  it,  and  old 
habits  have  not  darkened  its  vision.  Channing  even 
went  so  far  as  to  question  whether  we  needed  an  infal 
lible  guide, — whether  such  a  guide  would  not  be  rather  a 
disadvantage  than  otherwise  ;  but,  in  regard  to  the  gos 
pel  morality,  he  was  inclined  to  think  that  his  friend  did 
less  than  justice  to  Christianity.  He  was  persuaded  that 
the  character  of  Jesus  was  different  in  kind  from  his  own ; 
he  accepted  the  Bible  miracles  as  distinct  in  genus  from 
those  of  other  nations  or  books :  in  all  which  opinions 
Parker  dissented  emphatically  from  him.  In  other 
words,  Parker  was  a  pure  transcendentalist,  Channing 
only  a  partial  one.  There  were  discussions  with  Mr. 
Alcott  on  the  comparative  merits,  aims,  and  work  of  Dr. 
Channing  and  Mr.  Garrison.  George  Bancroft  cheered 
him  with  his  brave  confidence  in  the  popular  desire 
for  spiritual  truths.  Convers  Francis  was  a  fountain  of 
living  water.  He  walked  to  Andover  to  see  Moses  Stuart, 
the  famous  "  orthodox  "  professor ;  found  him  "  full  of 
talk  and  anecdote,  very  uncouth  in  his  manners,  broad 
in  his  mind,  and  free  in  his  spirit,  but  crude  with  undi 
gested  learning  and  mixed  beliefs."  He  even  called  on 
Mr.  Norton,  who  always  received  him  coldly ;  and,  failing 
to  find  communion  of  heart,  paid  a  tribute  to  the  neatness 
of  his  mental  operations  and  the  perfect  order  of  his 
papers. 

The  event  of  1839,  in  the  Unitarian  world,  was  Mr.  Nor 
ton's  address  to  the  alumni  of  the  Divinity  School  on  "  The 
Latest  Form  of  Infidelity,"  a  performance  which  revived 
the  war  between  the  old  and  the  new  schools.  "  Is  it 
not  weaker  than  you  ever  fancied  ? "  Theodore  writes  to 
Miss  Peabody.  "What  a  cumbrous  matter  he  makes 
Christianity  to  be  !  You  must  believe  it  is  authenticated 

10* 


1 14  THEODORE  PARKER. 

by  miracles ;  nor  that  only,  but  that  this  is  the  only  way 
in  which  it  can  be  attested.  I  doubt  that  Jesus  himself 
could  be  a  Christian  on  these  terms.  Did  you  notice  the 
remarkable  mistranslations  of  the  German  passages  ? 
They  are  such  as  no  tyro  could  make,  I  should  fancy.  It 
will  do  one  good  work :  it  will  present  the  subject  to  the 
public  mind ;  and  now  we  may  have  a  fair  discussion."  To 
Mr.  Silsbee  he  writes,  "  Ripley  is  writing  the  reply  to  Mr. 
Norton.  It  will  make  a  pamphlet  of  about  one  hundred 
pages  octavo,  and  is  clear,  strong,  and  good.  He  will 
not  say  all  that  I  wish  might  be  said ;  but,  after  we  have 
seen  that,  I  will  handle,  in  a  letter  to  you,  certain  other 
points  not  approached  by  Ripley.  There  is  a  higher 
word  to  be  said  on  this  subject  than  Ripley  is  disposed  to 
say  just  now.  But  a  long  controversy  will  probably  grow 
out  of  this :  ink  will  be  spilled  on  both  sides,  and  hard 
names  called  in  the  excess  of  Christian  charity  that  usual 
ly  attends  religious  controversies.  I  find  no  men  among 
the  Unitarian  ministers  who  like  the  address  :  even  Dr. 
Parkman  thinks  it  weak.  But  some  of  the  lay  brethren 
think  the  matter  fixed ;  that  Mr.  Norton  has  *  done  tran 
scendentalism  up.' " 

The  points  that  Mr.  Parker  wished  presented  were  fun 
damental.  How  does  man  attain  to  religion?  whence 
get  the  essential  truth  thereof  ?  What  is  meant  by  a  reve 
lation?  Is  revelation  necessary  in  order  to  a  vital  and 
sufficient  religion?  Has  the  revelation  been  made  to  all 
nations,  or  so  that  all  nations  have  had  an  opportunity  to 
become  acquainted  with  it?  Is  Christianity  a  peculiar 
revelation,  or  the  perfection  of  all  previous  revelations  ? 
These  points  he  proposed  to  open  in  a  pamphlet  by 
"  Isaac  Smith."  The  pamphlet  was  written  and  published, 
but  under  another  title  :  "  The  Previous  Question  between 
Mr.  Andrews  Norton  and  his  Alumni  moved  and 
handled  in  a  Letter  to  all  those  Gentlemen,  by  Levi 
Blodgett."  And  a  very  admirable  tractate  it  was  for  clear- 


WEST  ROXBURY.  115 

ness,  pith,  and  point.  Planting  himself  on  the  ground 
that  man  has  a  spiritual  nature  endowed  with  original 
capacity  to  apprehend  primary  religious  truth  directly, 
without  the  mediation  of  sacrament,  creed,  or  Bible,  he 
stood  outside  and  above  the  controversy  that  raged  about 
him.  His  faith,  being  intuitive,  was  unassailable  by  his 
torical  doubt  or  literary  criticism.  Every  thing  might  go, 
—  Old  Testament,  New  Testament,  miracles,  ordinances, 
formularies:  he  was  safe.  On  the  question  of  literary 
criticism  his  mind  was  far  from  clear;  but  he  was  con 
tent  that  it  should  be  so.  He  would  answer  questions  as 
well  as  he  could  when  they  came  up  ;  but  he  would  not 
fret  if  they  were  unanswered.  He  would  not  timidly 
thrust  them  aside,  nor  would  he  rashly  jump  at  conclu 
sions  that  were  not  warranted  by  his  discoveries.  He  was 
deeply,  almost  passionately,  concerned  that  people  should 
not  rest  their  beliefs  in  God,  duty,  immortality,  on  exter 
nal  evidence  ;  that  they  should  trust  in  the  revelations  that 
come  to  their  own  souls :  but  there  his  concern  stopped. 
He  made  no  war  on  opinions  as  such,  but  on  the  princi 
ples  relied  on  to  justify  opinions,  and  on  the  spirit  in 
which  opinions  were  held.  Men  might  believe,  if  they 
would,  in  the  Bible,  Hebrew  and  Christian ;  in  the  miracu 
lous  birth  and  peculiar  nature  of  Christ ;  in  the  incarna 
tion,  the  transfiguration,  the  resurrection.  He  would  not 
molest  them,  provided  they  believed,  first  of  all,  in  the 
soul  of  course  :  being  thus  justified  in  thinking  freely,  he 
thought  freely;  being  privileged  to  use  his  intellect,  he 
used  it. 

To  Dr.  Francis. 

"  It  seems  to  me  most  of  us  set  a  false  value  on  the  writings  of 
the  New  Testament.  We  take  them  to  be  our  standard  of  life  and 
doctrine  ;  and  yet  probably  no  learned  and  free  Christian  thinker 
believes  all  that  is  contained  in  any  writer  of  the  New  Testament. 
Two  evangelists  evidently  believe  the  miraculous  conception; 
all,  perhaps,  credited  the  popular  notions  about  'possessions. 


Il6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Matthew,  Mark,  and  John  do  not  say  a  living  dove  descended  on 
Jesus  ;  but  Luke  does  say  it.  Can  there  be  any  doubt  the  first 
three  evangelists  supposed  that  words  were  spoken  in  an  artic 
ulate  voice  announcing  his  acceptance  with  God  ?  Certainly 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they,  and  the  Saviour  himself  ,  as  well 
as  Paul  and  Peter,  misunderstood  passages  of  the  Old  Testa 
ment,  and  misapplied  them.  No  doubt  Paul  thought  he  saw 
1  angels.'  I  don't  believe  Luke  thought  the  Damascus  journey 
a  natural  affair,  or  that  Paul  thought  it  was  less  than  miraculous. 
Peter  and  John  need  not  be  mentioned,  and  still  less  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  ;  for  in  all  these  the  incongruities  are  more 
remarkable,  perhaps,  than  in  the  other  parts  of  the  New  Testa 
ment.  Now,  if  the  New  Testament  is  a  standard  of  life  and 
doctrine  to  you  and  me,  we  are  bound  to  believe  these  state 
ments  (if  possible).  But  we  do  not  believe  them.  This  is  all 
right ;  but  the  people  believe  them,  or  think  they  must  believe 
them,  which  is  still  worse.  Now,  as  you  said  the  other  day,  how 
different  the  Bible  as  you  studied  it  at  home  from  the  Bible 
as  your  parishioners  listened  to  it  at  church  !  Is  it  necessary 
there  should  always  be  this  clerical  view,  and  this  laical  view 
so  different  from  it  ?  Would  not  the  people  be  better,  wiser,  and 
holier  if  they  were  emancipated  from  this  stupid  superstition 
which  now  hangs  like  a  millstone  about  their  necks  ?  It  seems 
to  me,  if  the  true  inspiration  of  the  New  Testament  was  under 
stood,  if  men  could  read  it  as  they  read  Plato  or  Seneca  (not 
that  the  New  Testament  is  not  incomparably  superior  to  them), 
they  would  be  more  enlightened  and  inspired  thereby.  I  take 
it,  the  main  difference  between  us  and  the  Orthodox  is  not 
respecting  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  or  total  depravity,  or  the 
fall,  or  election  (for  we  all  agree  near  enough  on  these  points, 
and  believe  in  '  God  the  Father,'  in  revelations  in  man,  which 
is  the  Son,  and  in  revelations  to  man,  which  is  the  Holy  Spirit, 
&c.),  but  in  respect  to  the  Scriptures.  The  Orthodox  place  the 
Bible  above  the  Soul ;  we,  the  Soul  above  the  Bible.  They 
tell  us,  that,  when  you  and  I  were  born,  all  revelation  was  at  an 
end,  all  the  capital  prizes  of  humanity  withdrawn  before  our 
time.  When  we  go  up  to  the  bar  of  God,  and  ask  for  our  mite, 
they  say,  *  You  have  Moses  and  the  prophets  :  hear  them.'  In 
short,  they  say,  '  The  canon  was  closed  before  you  were  born  : 
you  are  to  study  its  letter,  to  get  out  its  spirit;  that  is  all.' 


WEST  ROXB UR  Y.  117 

We  do  not  believe  this  statement.  Is  revelation  at  an  end  ?  Is 
the  Bible  better  than  the  soul  ?  The  Hindoo  says  that  of  his 
Veda;  the  Mohammedan,  of  his  Koran.  But,  if  the  Christian 
says  so,  he  dies;  for  Christianity  is  the  religion  of  freedom.  So 
the  fact  that  we  always  take  texts  from  the  Bible,  read  its  good 
passages,  and  pass  over  its  objectionable  clauses,  and  allegorize, 
or  put  a  higher  sense  to  passages,  tends  to  mislead  men  as  to 
the  true  nature  of  the  book.  Do  not  suppose  I  have  any  dis 
position  to  undervalue  the  Bible:  I  only  want  the  people  to 
understand  it  as  it  is.  I  remember  talking  with  old  Mr.  John 
Richardson  about  the  Bible  once.  He  said  he  had  recently  read 
the  first  part  of  the  Old  Testament  again  :  and  he  was  sorry  he 
had  read  it,  because  he  could  not  believe  it;  and,  before,  he  thought 
he  believed  all. 

"  Let  any  sober  man  read  De  Wette's  '  Biblical  Dogmatics,'  and 
he  will  be  astonished  to  see  how  many  doctrines  are  taught  in  the 
Bible  which  enlightened  men  cannot  believe.  I  must  think,  that 
by  and  by,  centuries  hence,  the  Old  Testament  will  be  dropped 
out  from  the  Church :  then  the  New  Testament  will  follow,  or 
only  be  used  as  we  now  use  other  helps.  I  can't  but  wish,  with 
you,  that  Jesus  had  written  his  own  books  ;  but  even  then  they 
must  have  contained  some  things  local  and  temporary." 

To  the  Same. 

MARCH  22,  1839. 

...  Is  not  this  plain  that  the  New  Testament  contains 
numerous  myths  ?  Certainly  the  book  of  Acts  has  several,  — 
Paul's  Damascus  journey  ;  Peter's  delivery  from  prison  ;  Paul's 
shipwreck ;  the  story  of  the  ascension ;  of  the  miraculous 
gift  of  tongues.  We  can  explain  all  these  things  naturally  ;  but 
did  the  compiler  of  this  queer  book  explain  them  in  this  way  ? 
What  right  have  we  to  use  a  different  system  of  exegesis  from 
that  we  apply  to  the  apocryphal  Gospels  and  every  other  writ 
ing  ?  Not  the  smallest.  But  we  cannot  believe  the  literal 
statement  of  Luke  :  so  we  attempt  to  save  his  credit,  and  invent 
a  system  of  interpretation  for  the  purpose.  But,  in  the  same 
manner,  we  could  make  the  story  of  John  Gilpin  an  allegorical 
history  of  the  origin,  progress,  and  perfection  of  Christianity. 

The  Gospels  are  not  without  their  myths,  —  the  miraculous 
conception,  the  temptation,  &c.  Now,  the  question  is,  Where 


n8  THEODORE  PARKER. 

are  they  to  end  ?  Who  will  tell  us  where  the  myth  begins,  and 
the  history  ends  ?  Do  not  all  the  miracles  belong  to  the  mythical 
part  ?  The  resurrection — is  not  that  also  a  myth  ?  I  know  you 
will  not  be  horror-struck  at  any  doubts  an  honest  lover  of  truth 
may  suggest ;  and  certainly  I  see  not  where  to  put  up  the  bar 
between  the  true  and  the  false.  Christianity  itself  was  before 
Abraham,  and  is  older  than  the  creation,  and  will  stand  forever  ; 
but  I  have  sometimes  thought  it  would  stand  better  without  the 
New  Testament  than  with  it. 


CHRIST. 
From  the  Journal. 

"  How  much  do  we  idealize  him  ?  Very  much,  I  suspect.  I 
look  on  the  Christ  of  tradition  as  a  very  different  being  from  the 
ideal  Christ.  The  latter  is  the  highest  form  of  man  we  can 
conceive  of,  —  a  perfect  incarnation  of  the  Word  ;  the  former  a 
man,  perhaps  of  passions  not  always  under  command,  who 
had  little  faults  and  weaknesses  that  would  offend  us.  He  must 
have  been  fatigued  at  times,  and  therefore  dull.  His  thoughts 
came  like  mine  :  so  he  was  sometimes  in  doubt,  perhaps  contra 
dicted  himself,  and  taught  things  not  perfectly  consistent  with 
reason  ;  or,  at  best,  gave  utterance  to  crude  notions.  From  the 
nature  of  the  case,  he  could  not  do  otherwise.  Thought  is  life 
generalized  and  abstract :  it  comes,  therefore,  only  as  we  live.  So, 
from  year  to  year,  and  day  to  day,  Christ  must  have  generalized 
better  as  he  lived  more.  His  plans  evidently  were  not  perfectly 
formed  at  first :  he  fluctuates  ;  does  not  know  whether  he  shall 
renounce  Moses  or  not.  He  evidently  went  on  without  any  plan 
of  action,  and,  like  Luther  at  the  Reformation,  effected  more  than 
he  designed.  At  first,  perhaps,  he  meditated  simply  a  reform  of 
Mosaism ;  but  finally  casts  off  all  tradition,  and  starts  a  fresh 
soul. 

"  His  power  of  miracle-working  is  an  element  of  the  soul ; 
we  find  it  in  all  history  :  it  is  a  vein  running  through  all  history, 
coming  near  the  surface  of  life  only  in  the  most  elevated  charac 
ters,  and  in  their  raptest  states  of  mind.  So  the  central  rocks 
only  crop  out  in  mountains.  We  all  feel  this  miracle-power 
ideally  (Alcott  says  actually  likewise,  and  perhaps  he's  right :  I 
can  feel  something  of  it,  supposing  it  is  what  Emerson  calls 


WEST  ROXBURY.  119 

demoniacal  influence).  Jesus,  a  greater  man  than  ever  lived 
before  or  since,  lived  it  actually.  His  miracles,  therefore,  were 
natural  acts  ;  not  contrary  to  outward  nature,  but  above  it.  To 
man  they  were  natural;  to  the  mass  of  matter,  supernatural. 
So  he  can  raise  the  dead,  multiply  loaves,  walk  on  the  sea. 

"  His  inspiration  I  can  understand  still  better.  There  can  be 
but  one  kind  of  inspiration  •  it  is  the  intuition  of  truth  :  but 
one  mode  of  inspiration ;  it  is  the  conscious  presence  of  the 
Highest,  either  as  Beauty,  Justice,  Usefulness,  Holiness,  or 
Truth,  —  the  felt  and  perceived  presence  of  Absolute  Being  in 
fusing  itself  into  me.  .  .  . 

"  Christ,  I  fancy,  was  one  of  the  greatest  souls  born  into  the 
world  of  time,  and  did  also  more  perfectly  than  any  other  man 
fulfil  the  conditions  of  inspiration :  so  the  Spirit  dwelt  in  him 
bodily.  His  was  the  highest  inspiration,  his  the  divinest  revela 
tion.  But  this  must  be  said  of  actualities,  not  of  possibilities.  It 
is  folly,  not  to  say  impiety,  to  say  God  cannot  create  a  greater 
soul  than  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Who  shall  attempt  to  foreshorten 
God,  and  close  the  gates  of  time  against  him,  declaring  that  no 
more  of  his  Spirit  can  be  by  any  possibility  incarnated  ?  Jesus 
was  cut  off  at  an  early  age,  the  period  of  blossom,  not 
fruitage.  .  .  . 

"  The  Christ  of  tradition  I  shall  preach  down  one  of  these 
days  to  the  extent  of  my  ability.  I  will  not  believe  the  driving 
beasts  out  of  the  temple  with  a  whip  ;  the  command  to  Peter  to 
catch  a  fish ;  still  less  the  cursing  the  fig-tree,  and  the  old 
wives'  fable  about  the  ascension.'7 

PAUL  AND   CHRISTIANITY. 
From  the  Journal. 

"  What  would  have  been  the  result  if  St.  Paul  had  not  been 
converted  on  his  Damascus  journey?  Take  the  life  of  St.  Paul 
out  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  how  much  is  left  ?  Would 
Christianity  have  sunk  down  into  a  Jewish  sect,  like  that  of  the 
Essenes  ?  or  would  it,  by  its  inherent  might,  have  created  a 
Paul?  How  he  shot  above  James  and  Peter  and  the  others, 
save  only  John  !  .  .  .  What  if  Christ  had  been  born  in  Kam- 
tchatka :  we  should  have  heard  nothing  of  him.  Why,  then,  may 
there  not  have  been  other  Christs  ?  . 


120  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"The  first  Christian  writings  were  Paul's  Epistles.  In  his 
time  there  were  no  Gospels.  I  doubt  strongly  that  Paul  knew  any 
thing  of  the  Christian  miracles,  or  the  miraculous  birth  of  Jesus, 
or  his  temptation,  or  prediction  of  his  death.  Had  he  known 
the  facts  (?),  would  he  have  alluded  to  them  ?  " 

THE  EARLY   CHRISTIANS. 
From  the  Journal,  1841. 

"All  I  read  of  them  convinces  me  more  of  their  noble 
character,  aim,  and  life.  But  I  see  their  limitations.  They 
were  superstitious,  formal;  at  least,  after  the  middle  of  the 
second  century,  and  perhaps  also  in  the  apostles'  times  :  the  let 
ter  burdened  them  ;  but  they  were  full  of  the  noble,  manly 
spirit.  Their  ascetic  doctrines  of  marriage,  dress,  amusement, 
education,  I  dislike  vastly.  They  laid  too  much  stress  on  baptism, 
the  eucharist ;  giving  the  latter  to  men  to  keep  at  home,  carry 
in  their  pocket,  &c. ;  gave  it  to  little  children  just 'after  baptism  ; 
put  it  in  the  mouth  of  dead  people,  and  the  like. 

"  But  how  they  died  !  How  they  prayed  !  How  they  lived  ! 
We  cannot  yet  afford  to  criticise  these  men.  Certainly  they  were 
not  gentlemen  ;  but  they  were  men.  The  wonder  is,  that,  being 
so  much,  they  saw  no  more." 

HERETICS. 
From  the  Journal. 

"  They  began  very  early  :  indeed,  we  find  them  in  the  times 
of  the  apostles.  In  Jesus  you  are  in  the  plero?na  of  light :  step 
into  the  apostles,  it  is  already  evening,  and  the  light  is  behind 
you;  take  another  step,  and  you  are  in  fathomless  darkness. 
Heretics  have  always  been  treated  as  the  worst  of  men.  Imagina 
ry  doctrines  have  been  ascribed  to  them,  —  immoral  ceremonies. 
They  have  been  charged  with  sins  of  the  blackest  dye.  .  .  . 
Jerome  says  the  heretics,  even  if  they  lead  blameless  and  beauti 
ful  lives,  have  only  the  image  and  shadow  of  virtue.  Tertullian 
chides  Marcion,  after  the  fashion  of  Dr.  South,  with  his  God 
who  is  not  to  be  feared  ;  and  asks  him  why,  if  he  does  not  fear 
God,  he  does  not  go  to  the  theatre  and  bawdy-house,  and  game 
and  drink.  Philastor  and  Augustine  censure  some  heretics 
who  would  think  the  planets,  sun,  moon,  and  stars  were  worlds, 
because  they  denied  the  resurrection  of  the  flesh.  .  .  . 


WEST  ROXBURY.  121 

"  Nothing  will  ever  save  us  but  a  wide,  generous  toleration. 
I  must  tolerate  and  comfort  my  brother,  though  I  think  him  in 
error,  though  I  know  him  to  be  in  error.  I  must  tolerate  his 
ignorance,  even  his  sin ;  yes,  his  intolerance.  Here  the  only 
safe  rule  is,  if  some  one  has  done  you  a  wrong,  to  resolve  on  the 
spot  never  to  do  that  wrong  to  him  or  any  one  else.  It  is  easy 
to  tolerate  a  man  if  you  know  he  is  a  fool,  and  quite  in  the 
wrong ;  but  we  must  tolerate  him  when  we  know  he  is  not  a 
fool,  and  not  altogether  in  the  wrong." 

From  the  Journal,  April  i,  1839. 

"  I  have  just  finished  a  review  of  Strauss  for  *  The  Examiner.' 
I  could  not  say  all  I  would  say  from  the  standpoint  of  'The 
Examiner,'  —  for  this  is  not  allowable, — but  the  most  the 
readers  of  that  paper  will  bear.  If  the  editor  is  shabby,  as  he 
was  a  few  days  ago,  he  will  *  decline  the  article,'  ungrammati- 
cal  as  it  may  be.  I  have  written  it,  however,  at  his  request,  and 
with  no  small  labor.  The  reading  of  sixteen  hundred  pages  like 
this  is  something ;  and  then,  to  consider  the  study  of  the  books 
of  Ullman,  Tholuck,  and  the  '  Streit  Schriften,'  it  makes  up  a 
good  deal  of  work." 

From  the  Journal,  Sunday,  Aug.  i. 

"  Was  at  home.  Communion  in  the  morning.  This  rite  be 
comes  less  and  less  to  me.  I  would  gladly  abandon  it ;  for  it  trou 
bles  me.  Leave  the  elements,  and  give  me  a  meeting  for  prayer, 
conversation,  or  preaching,  not  the  amphibious  thing  we  have 
now.  I  confess  the  rite  was  never  much  to  me.  The  time  spent 
alone  would  always  have  been  the  more  profitable.  Could  it  be 
possible,  this  should  be  my  plan,  —  to  have  a  meeting  in  the  even 
ing  for  religious  conversation,  and  prayer  (if  needful)  at  private 
houses  ;  and  bread  and  wine  might  form  part  of  the  entertain 
ment.  I  cannot  but  think  Christ  would  be  astonished  at  these 
rites.  But  let  this  go  :  it  warms  the  hearts  of  pious  women,  we 
are  told." 

Though  these  opinions  were  expressed  chiefly  in  the 
journal  and  in  private   letters,    Mr.    Parker's   published 
writings  were  guarded,  and  his  sermons  were  mostly  prac 
tical   and  religious.     Towards  devout  prejudices  he  was 
ii 


122  THEODORE  PARKER. 

very  gentle,  not  from  lack  of  courage,  but  partly  from  dis 
trust  in  the  finality  of  his  views,  partly  from  fear  of  going 
too  fast  for  his  hearers,  and  partly  from  his  deeper  interest 
in  essential  ideas  than  in  casual  criticisms.  The  spirit  of 
his  beliefs  appeared  in  sermon  and  prayer.  He  said 
nothing  in  public  he  did  not  believe :  he  was  careful  that 
his  people  should  not  be  justified  in  ascribing  to  him 
beliefs  he  did  not  entertain.  But  he  waited  the  bidding 
of  conscience  before  telling  all  he  knew,  or  thought  he 
knew,  about  the  Bible.  Two  discourses  on  the  Scriptures 
remained  unpreached  in  his  drawer  for  two  years,  biding 
their  time  for  delivery.  When  the  time  came,  the  preacher 
found  the  people  more  than  prepared  for  their  contents. 
At  this  period,  Parker  was  no  image-breaker :  indeed,  he 
never  was,  unless  he  saw  that  the  image  concealed  the 
god. 

Still  an  evil  opinion  of  him  got  abroad.  Pulpits  began 
to  be  closed  against  him ;  ministers  declined  to  exchange, 
a  sign  of  fellowship  withdrawn. 

From  the  Journal,  November,  1840. 

"  I  have  solicited  an  exchange  repeatedly  with  Y g ;  could 

not  get  it :  with  B tt ;  with  Dr.  P n.     To  ask  either  of 

these  men  again  would  be  a  dereliction  from  Christian  self- 
respect.  So  let  them  pass.  I  feel  no  ill-will  towards  any  of 

them.     I  will  try  G tt  soon,  for  the  experiment's  sake  ;  and 

so  with  the  others,  excepting ,  with  whom  I  wish  no  exchange 

for  moral  reasons.  Their  answer  decides  my  course  for  the 
future.  Let  us  see  !  I  should  laugh  outright  to  catch  myself 
weeping  because  the  Boston  clergy  would  not  exchange  with 
me!" 

Before  it  fairly  came  to  this,  his  position  was  so  well 
understood,  and  he  was  so  generally  regarded  as  a  man 
suspected,  that  letters  of  sympathy,  encouragement,  and 
friendly  warning,  came  to  him.  The  following  letter  shows 
how  he  received  such  communications :  — 


WEST  ROXBURY.  123 

To  Miss  E.  P.  Peabody. 

"  Touching  my  becoming  a  martyr,  as  you  and  Miss  Burley 
conjecture,  I  think  I  should  have  no  occasion  for  the  requisite 
spirit,  even  if  I  had  that  article  in  as  great  abundance  as  John 
Knox  or  John  Rogers.  I  have  precious  little  of  the  spirit  of  a 
martyr :  but,  inasmuch  as  I  fear  no  persecution,  I  fancy  I  can 
'say  my  say,'  and  go  on  smoothly;  but  if  not  —  why,  well,  I  can 
go  roughly.  I  trust  I  have  enough  of  the  spirit  always  to  speak 
the  truth,  be  the  consequence  what  it  may.  It  seems  to  me  men 
often  trouble  themselves  about  the  consequences  of  an  opinion 
or  action  much  more  than  is  necessary.  Having  settled  the 
question  that  an  opinion  is  true,  and  an  action  perfectly  right, 
what  have  you  and  I  to  do  with  consequences  ?  They  belong 
to  God,  not  to  man.  He  has  as  little  to  do  with  these  as  with 
the  rising  of  the  sun  or  the  flow  of  the  tide. 

"  Doubtless  men  said  to  Galileo, '  Your  system  may  be  true  ; 
but  only  think  of  the  consequences  that  follow !  What  will 
you  do  with  them  ?  '  The  sage  probably  replied,  '  I  will  let 
them  alone.  To  do  duty  and  speak  truth  is  my  office.  God 
takes  care  of  consequences.'  " 

To  the  Same. 

"  I  thank  you  most  profoundly  for  the  kind  and  seasonable 
advice  touching  the  matter  of  prudence  ;  but  you  cannot  fancy  I 
have  any  desire  to  set  the  world  on  fire  by  promulgating  heresies. 
I  have  not  tt\z  furor  divinus  which  impels  some  of  the  young  men 
to  vent  their  crude  conceptions,  to  the  injury,  perhaps,  of  them 
selves  and  the  public.  Prudence,  in  the  common  sense,  is  a  vulgar, 
sneaking  virtue,  which  bids  a  man  take  care  of  his  meaner  inter 
ests,  though  at  the  expense  of  all  that  is  noble  in  action  or  divine 
in  contemplation.  But  Christian  prudence  is  a  different  thing. 
It  is  a  wise  forecasting  of  results  ;  a  foreseeing  consequences  in 
their  causes,  and  preparing  to  meet  them  when  they  come.  Mr. 
Alcott  would  no  doubt  rejoice  to  say  that  prudentia  was  only 
pre-videntia ;  and  so  it  is. 

"  I  have  only  one  consolation  for  all  evils  ;  and  that  is,  an  abso 
lute  faith  that  it  is  all  right,  that  it  will  one  day  produce  the  best 
possible  influences  over  me,  and  that  then  I  shall  see  how  fool 
ish  I  have  been  to  complain.  All  of  us  mourn  over  many  failures : 
favorite  schemes  are  dreamed  out,  only  to  fail  soon  as  we 


124  THEODORE  PARKER. 

attempt  to  realize  them.  By  and  by  the  cloud  breaks  away,  and 
we  see  it  would  have  been  worse  had  they  succeeded.  It  must 
be  so  in  all  cases.  *  May  Heaven  refuse  to  grant  half  of  our 
prayers '  was  a  wise  petition  of  some  old  sage.  There  can  be 
no  such  thing  as  absolute  evil ;  and  from  the  standpoint  of 
Omniscience,  when  the  whole  appears  as  it  is,  there  can  be  no 
semblance  of  evil.  This  is  all  the  comfort  I  have  for  any  sorrow, 
or  for  all  sorrows  :  therefore  I  can  say  with  old  Henry  More, — 

Lord,  thrust  me  deeper  into  dust, 

That  thou  mayst  raise  me  with  the  just.' 

"  Is  it  possible,  however,  for  any  one  to  have  a  faith  so  deep, 
so  active,  so  perfect,  that  all  sorrows  can  be  borne  as  cheerfully 
as  blessings  are  enjoyed  ?  It  may  be  possible  for  some  to  reach 
this  state  ;  but  only  for  a  few ;  certainly  not  for  me.  You  have 
by  nature  a  deep  and  active  faith,  which  spontaneously  over 
flows,  and,  like  the  sacred  waters  of  the  Nile  or  Ganges,  makes 
all  around  it  green  and  fruitful." 

If  these  passages  express  confidence,  they  also  betray 
sorrow.  Though  endowed  with  a  sanguine  temperament 
and  a  stout  heart,  Mr.  Parker  had  an  immense  capacity 
for  suffering,  which  all  his  power  of  accomplishment  could 
not  deaden  or  suppress.  The  cry  was  the  more  agonizing 
for  not  being  heard.  He  did  care  more  than  he  thought 
he  did  for  the  fellowship  of  his  ministerial  breth 
ren  ;  for  they  were  his  brethren  in  a  ministry  which  he 
loved,  and  could  not  bear  to  see  desecrated  by  sordid  con 
siderations.  To  lose  his  companionship  and  his  confi 
dence  at  once  was  a  severe  blow. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   FERMENT   OF   THOUGHT. 

IT  was  a  remarkable  agitation  of  mind  that  went  on  in 
Massachusetts  thirty  years  ago.  All  institutions  and  all 
ideas  went  into  the  furnace  of  reason,  and  were  tried  as 
by  fire.  Church  and  State  were  put  to  the  proof ;  and  the 
wood,  hay,  stubble  —  every  thing  combustible  —  were  con 
sumed.  The  process  of  proving  was  not  confined  to  Bos 
ton  :  the  whole  State  took  part  in  it.  It  did  not  proceed 
from  Boston  as  a  centre :  it  began  simultaneously  in  differ 
ent  parts  of  the  Commonwealth.  It  did  not  seem  to  be 
communicated,  to  spread  by  contagion,  but  was  rather  an  in 
tellectual  experience  produced  by  some  latent  causes  which 
were  active  in  the  air.  No  special  class  of  people  were 
responsible  for  it,  or  affected  by  it.  While  in  Boston  the 
little  knot  of  transcendentalists  —  Channing,  Ripley,  Mar 
garet  Fuller,  Emerson,  Alcott,  Francis,  Hedge,  Parker 
—  were  discussing  the  problems  of  philosophy  at  the 
Tremont  House  and  elsewhere,  the  farmers  in  the  country, 
and  plain  folks  of  Cape  Cod,-  were  as  full  of  the  new 
spirit  as  they,  and  were  reaching,  though  from  the  oppo 
site  region  of  common  sense,  the  same  intrepid  conclu 
sions.  It  was  a  time  of  meetings  and  conventions  for 
reforms  of  every  description.  A  man  of  the  people  like 
Theodore  Parker,  utterly  free  from  conventionality,  know 
ing  no  distinctions  of  persons,  equally  at  home  with 
learned  and  simple,  interested  in  what  Epictetus  calls  the 
ii*  125 


126  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  bare  man,"  was  sure  to  be  on  the  spot  where  any  thing 
of  practical  moment  was  taking  place.  The  journal  con 
tains  a  long  account  —  eight  closely-written  folio  pages  — 
of  a  convention  held  in  Groton  in  August  of  1840.  It  is 
too  long  to  be  copied  in  full  here,  as  Mr.  Weiss  has  done 
in  his  biography ;  nor  would  the  importance  of  the  occa 
sion  justify  the  occupation  of  the  required  space  :  but  so 
characteristic  an  example  of  the  mental  condition  of  the 
time  must  not  be  passed  by. 

The  call  for  the  convention  was  issued  by  Second  Ad- 
ventists  and  Gome-outers,  —  two  very  unlike  classes  of 
people,  except  in  the  one  particular  of  being  rude  and 
uneducated.  The  former  we  know  about :  the  latter  had 
no  distinguishing  tenets,  but  held  opinions  of  every  radi 
cal  type,  taking  their  name  from  the  mere  circumstance 
of  their  having  "  come  out "  from  the  regular  churches. 
The  distance  to  Groton  from  Boston  was  about  thirty 
miles.  An  expedition  thither  on  foot  was  proposed ;  the 
original  company  being  Ripley,  Parker,  and  a  new  friend 
of  theirs,  E.  P.  Clark.  They  picked  up  Cranch  at  New 
ton,  and  walked  on  to  Concord;  stopping,  as  they  went 
along,  to  refresh  themselves  at  a  farm-house,  or  rest  a 
moment  by  the  way-side,  but  trusting  to  the  talk  to 
shorten  the  way.  At  Concord  they  called  on  Mr.  Alcott ; 
got  a  word  of  admonition  from  old  Dr.  Ripley  (aged 
ninety),  who  charged  them  not  to  become  "  egomites,"  or 
self -sent  men;  and  then  repaired  to  Mr.  Emerson,  "who 
looked  as  divine  as  usual."  With  him  they  took  tea. 
The  next  morning  the  party,  increased  by  the  addition  of 
Alcott,  trudged  on  to  Groton.  Some  little  reconnoitring 
was  required  before  Mr.  Hawley,  the  herald  of  the  con 
vention,  could  be  found.  When  discovered,  he  proved  to 
be  a  young  man  of  about  four  and  twenty  years,  of  pleasant 
countenance,  but  unprepossessingly  so,  Mr.  Parker  thought. 
"Brother"  Hawley  introduced  them  to  Brother  Himes 
of  Boston,  Brother  Myrick  of  Cazenovia,  Brother  Russell, 
and  others  whose  names  were  unremembered. 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  127 

On  inquiring  what  was  to  be  done  at  the  convention, 
the  reply  was  negative  and  unsatisfactory.  The  two  ques 
tions  not  to  be  discussed  were,  i.  What  constitutes  a 
Christian?  2.  What  constitutes  a  Christian  church? 
Brother  Jones  was  to  hold  forth  that  night  on  the  second 
coming  of  Christ  in  1843.  The  discourse  would  be  very 
interesting,  no  doubt ;  but  1843  was  still  in  the  future : 
there  might  something  be  transacted  in  the  mean  time. 
So  the  party  of  travellers  adjourned,  and  enjoyed  a  talk  by 
themselves.  The  convention  had  interesting  features, 
from  the  mere  circumstance  of  its  wildness  and  fanati 
cism;  but  the  most  interesting  were  the  people  them 
selves.  There  was  Joseph  Palmer,  "  a  man  with  a  meek 
face,  and  a  fine  gray  beard  six  or  eight  inches  long,  clad 
in  fustian  trousers  and  a  clean  white  jacket."  He  had 
been  a  butcher ;  but  had  renounced  that  calling,  partly 
from  the  conviction  of  the  wrongfulness  of  eating  flesh. 
His  face  was  pleasantly  touched  with  enthusiasm  :  Alcott 
found  him  full  of  "  divine  thoughts."  He  wore  his  beard 
because  God  gave  it  to  him,  doubtless  for  some  good 
end.  Joseph  spoke  to  this  effect  in  the  convention  :  "  If 
you  are  here  to  discuss  the  Church  of  Antichrist,  I  have 
nothing  to  say ;  for  I  know  nothing  of  that.  But  I  know 
something  of  the  Christian  Church.  You  have  said  a 
good  deal  about  getting  into  the  Christian  Church,  and 
about  getting  out  of  it.  Now,  there  is  but  one  way  of 
getting  out  of  the  Church,  —  that  pursued  by  Judas,  also 
by  Ananias  and  Sapphira.  No  man,  save  himself,  can  put 
one  out  of  the  Church.  Now,  I  will  tell  you  how  to  get  into 
the  Christian  Church.  Christ  said  to  the  young  man  who 
asked  how  to  obtain  eternal  life,  '  Sell  all  that  thou  hast, 
and  give  to  the  poor.'  If  he  did  that,  he  was  saved. 
Now,  if  he  was  saved,  he  was  a  Christian,  of  course,  —  a 
member  of  the  Church  of  Christ.  Why,  then,  do  you 
make  such  a  talk  about  the  way  to  become  a  Christian  ? 
It  is  perfectly  plain.  There  is  not  a  girl  here  twelve  years 


128  THEODORE  PARKER. 

old  who  cannot  understand  it."  For  himself,  he  had 
thought  out  all  that  had  been  said  in  the  meetings  long 
ago,  when  he  lay  in  a  dungeon  for  conscience'  sake. 

B.  W.  Dyer  was  a  young  man  of  about  twenty-five,  a 
farmer,  and  a  minister  as  well.  He  had  little  book-learn 
ing,  but  deep  thoughts.  When  Alcott  asked  him  about 
Christ,  he  said,  "  Truth  is  Christ,  and  Christ  truth."  He 
expected  salvation  from  the  inward  Christ;  in  short,  by 
becoming  the  Christ.  Here  was  a  rude  farmer,  who  had 
found  the  same  well-spring  that  had  quenched  the  thirst 
of  the  learned  Ralph  Cudworth  and  many  a  profound 
mystic  besides.  His  theory  of  inspiration  was,  in  sub 
stance,  that  set  forth  in  "The  Dial."  Paul  and  Peter  were 
inspired ;  but  so  were  others,  —  some  more,  some  less.  His 
idea  of  death  and  the  resurrection  was  strictly  apostolic. 
He  believed  that  they  who  possessed  the  entire  truth,  who 
were  the  Lord's  own,  would  never  die,  but  would  be  spir 
itualized,  and  caught  up  into  the  air.  Another  personage 
Mr.  Parker  christened  "  Mantalini,"  from  his  close  resem 
blance,  in  whisker,  dress,  watch-chain,  and  drawl,  to  the 
illustrious  character  in  "  Nicholas  Nickleby."  He  was  an 
Englishman ;  had  been  a  Baptist,  then  a  Universalist, 
afterwards  a  member  of  the  legislature,  and  was  then  a 
preacher.  In  his  affected,  "  dandiacal  "  manner,  he  com 
pared  the  Christian  Church  to  Samson  going  down  to 
Timnath  and  slaying  a  lion ;  a  remark  which  provoked  our 
friend  Theodore  to  the  satirical  rejoinder,  that,  when 
Samson  went  down  to  Timnath  and  slew  the  lion,  he  had 
not  been  shorn  by  Delilah,  but  continued  true  to  his  vow 
of  austerity.  The  covert  allusion  to  soap-locks  and  other 
effeminacies  was  lost  on  "  Mantalini,"  who,  when  the  meet 
ing  was  over,  congratulated  the  grim  humorist  on  his 
interesting  speech,  with  nearly  all  of  which  he  heartily 
agreed. 

Nickerson  and  Davis  were  two  preachers  among  the 
"  Come-outers,"  —  "  two  as  rough-looking  men  as  you  would 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  129 

meet  in  a  summer's  day ;  but  their  countenances  were  full 
of  the  divine."  Their  hands,  their  dress,  their  general 
air,  showed  that  they  belonged  to  the  humblest  class  in 
society. 

Mr.  Bearse  was  a  plain  Cape-Cod  fisherman,  —  a  skip 
per,  probably,  —  of  bright,  ruddy,  cheerful  countenance. 
He  spoke  briefly,  gesticulating  in  a  manner  distressing  to 
Brother  Hawley,  and  to  this  effect :  "  I  see  about  in  the 
land  many  little  Babels  of  sectarian  churches,  as  you  call 
them.  Now,  I  see  you  wish  to  pull  down  these  little  Ba 
bels  ;  to  take  the  combustible  materials  of  which  they  are 
made,  and  erect  one  great  Babel,  into  which  you  may 
enter.  You  are  in  a  fair  way ;  and,  if  this  is  not  confu 
sion  of  tongues  already  prevailing,  I  don't  know  what 
confusion  is."  Brother  Hawley  was  not  rejoiced.  Pres 
ently  Mrs.  Bearse,  a  "  sister  to  live "  as  they  called  her, 
arose  and  spoke,  her  husband  cheering  her  on.  She 
stated  meekly  and  beautifully — this  Cape-Cod  saint  — 
her  religious  history,  her  connection  with  an  Orthodox 
church,  then  with  a  Freewill  Baptist  church,  and  her  per 
secution  in  both.  "  Now,"  she  said,  "  the  Lord  has  set  me 
in  a  large  place."  "  Her  remarks  showed  plainly  that  she 
spoke  from  the  divine  life.  I  afterwards  talked  with  her, 
and  saw  how  divine  her  heart  appeared,  and  her  counte 
nance  also ;  for  she  has  one  of  the  fairest  faces  I  have 
seen  for  many  moons." 

The  opinions  of  the  "  Come-outers  "  were  found  to  coin 
cide  in  many  respects  with  those  Mr.  Parker  had  arrived 
at  by  his  own  trained  reflection.  The  Christian  ordi 
nances  they  esteemed  highly :  "  They  are  our  daily  work. 
We  do  not  count  a  rite  better  than  any  other  act.  If  our 
heart  is  right,  whatever  we  do  we  shall  do  for  the  glory  of 
God.  Baptism  we  think  little  of,"  said  Mr.  Nickerson. 
"  and  therefore  seldom  administer  it."  —  "  But,"  said  Mr. 
Bearse,  "sometimes  a  brother  wishes  to  be  baptized  ;  and, 
if  the  Spirit  moves  me,  I  baptize  him,  or  some  other  does 


130  THEODORE  PARKER. 

it.     We  don't  think  it  necessary  for  the  minister  to  do  this  : 
any  one  into  whom  God  puts  the  desire  may  do  it." 

The  Lord's  Supper  they  held  in  light  estimation ;  rarely 
administered  it,  and  never  except  one  was  moved  to  it  by 
a  spontaneous  action  of  the  divine  feelings.  The  last  time 
it  was  administered  was  at  Sister  Nancy's  house.  Several 
had  met  one  evening  to  worship ;  and  Brother  some  one 
said,  "  The  Spirit  moves  me  to  eat  the  Lord's  Supper." 
Whereupon  Sister  Nancy  went  to  the  cupboard,  brought 
forth  bread  and  wine,  placed  it  on  the  table,  and  the 
brother  sat  down  and  ate  and  drank.  "  All  our  meals," 
they  said,  "  are  the  Lord's  Supper,  if  we  eat  with  a  right 
heart.  He  that  eateth,  eateth  to  the  Lord ;  and  he  that 
eateth  not,  to  the  Lord  he  eateth  not." 

Whoever  wished  to  join  their  company  did  so  without 
ceremony.  No  questions  were  asked  about  his  creed  ;  he 
subscribed  to  no  confession  ;  set  his  name  to  no  paper ; 
was  free  to  come  and  go.  In  case  of  difficulty  between 
one  of  the  society  and  a  member  of  another  church,  some 
of  the  brethren  went  quietly  and  settled  the  dispute 
according  to  the  apostolical  method,  and  so  successfully, 
that  they  were  sometimes  asked  to  mediate  in  matters  of 
controversy  outside  of  their  own  body.  Should  one  come 
to  their  meeting  who  did  not  believe  in  Christ  or  the  Bible, 
or  even  a  God,  they  took  him  by  the  hand,  bade  him  wel 
come  and  God  speed  in  a  good  course.  Should  such  a  one 
offer  to  speak  in  meeting,  they  heard  what  he  had  to  say ; 
and,  if  he  could  convince  them,  they  were  ready  to  be  con 
vinced. 

They  had  no  rules  for  worship  :  each  prayed  as  he  was 
moved,  in  words  or  silently.  As  they  talked  with  their  new 
acquaintances,  Joshua  Davis  felt  moved  by  the  Spirit  to 
pray;  knelt  down,  and  poured  out  his  petition  "with 
beauty  and  great  earnestness." 

Their  ministers  declared  that  they  were  ministers  of 
silence  no  less  than  of  speech.  They  never  spoke  except 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  131 

when  moved  thereto ;  and  each  spoke  as  moved,  without 
restraint ;  "  for  it  took  the  whole  Church  to  preach  the 
whole  gospel." 

They  had  no  church-edifices  :  all  houses  where  good 
and  pious  people  lived  were  Lord's  houses ;  all  days  well 
spent,  Lord's  days.  Since  one  day  had  been  set  apart  by 
custom,  they  met  oftener  then  than  on  other  days  when 
labor  prevented ;  but  the  true  worship  was  a  divine  life 
during  the  week,  —  a  life  of  humility,  justice,  and  mercy. 
Thus  they  prayed  without  ceasing ;  thus  their  life  was  a  con 
tinual  sacrifice. 

Their  ministers  might  or  might  not  be  educated.  They 
had  no  ordination,  and  received  no  salary :  they  worked 
like  others  for  their  living,  owing  no  debts  but  the  debt  of 
love ;  making  their  own  wants  few,  that  they  might  have 
something  to  give  to  them  that  were  in  need.  Joshua 
Davis  was  a  working-man,  who,  over  and  above  the  time 
given  to  labor  for  his  bread,  visited  troubled  and  dying 
people  as  a  "physician  of  souls."  Yet  he  managed  to  give 
away  out  of  charity,  in  one  year,  a  hundred  dollars.  They 
counted  their  calling  sacred;  but  no  more  so  than  any 
other  ;  no  more  so  than  that  of  the  humblest  sister,  though 
she  were  but  six  years  old,  who  made  herself  useful.  They 
recognized  no  distinction'  between  sacred  and  profane 
things  where  the  heart  was  holy.  Some  of  the  ministers 
lived  up  to  a  very  high  calling.  This  very  Joshua  Davis 
rose  the  year  round  at  four  o'clock,  and  was  heard  often 
before  daylight  at  his  devotions,  which  were  at  times  so 
fervent  as  to  disturb  the  household  ;  in  which  event  he 
would  go  out  to  the  barn,  and  give  voice  to  the  passion  of 
his  prayer. 

They  used  the  Bible  as  a  help  to  godliness.  "Men 
worship  the  Bible,"  said  Mr.  Bearse  to  Mr.  Parker,  "  just 
as  the  old  pagans  worshipped  their  idols.  This  is  just  as 
truly  idolatry  as  that  false  worship  was.  The  Bible  is  a 
Scripture  of  the  Word,  not  the  Word  itself;  for  the  Word 


132  THEODORE  PARKER. 

is  never  written,  save  in  the  living  heart."  Books  of  a 
mystical  character  were  used  among  them,  such  as  Law's 
"  Serious  Call,"  "  Spirit  of  Prayer,"  "  Christian  Perfection," 
Scougal's  "  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man,"  George  Fox's 
"Journal."  Jacob  Boehme's  more  simple  and  practical 
treatises  were  not  unknown  to  them.  They  held  that  men 
were  inspired  in  proportion  as  they  had  received  the  truth ; 
and  they  received  the  truth  through  obedience. 

Mr.  Parker  made  a  long  speech  at  the  convention,  to 
the  general  approval  of  the  audience,  in  which  he  set  forth 
in  direct  and  simple  language  his  idea  of  the  original 
Christianity  as  it  lay  in  the  mind  of  Jesus ;  described  the 
early  departures  from  it ;  traced  the  rise  of  the  ecclesias 
tical  and  sectarian  spirit;  portrayed  in  vivid  colors  the 
actual  condition  of  the  Church ;  and  more  than  hinted  at 
the  radical  reforms  that  were  necessary,  if  the  religion 
was  to  vindicate  its  claim  to  be  the  savior  of  mankind. 
"  What  is  the  Church  now  ?  "  he  asked.  "  St.  Paul  said, 
'  Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty.'  But 
where  the  spirit  of  the  Church  is,  there  is  slavery.  The 
Holy  Spirit  says,  '  Be  a  true  soul ;  live  a  divine  life.'  The 
Church  demands  a  belief,  and  not  a  divine  life.  The  best 
men  come  to  her,  and  find  no  life,  no  power."  Thus  he 
sums  up  his  impressions  of  the  convention  :  — - 

"  i.  I  am  surprised  to  find  so  much  illiberality  amongst  the 
men  who  called  the  convention.  They  were  not  emancipated 
from  the  letter  of  the  Bible,  nor  the  formality  of  a  church.  They 
simply  wish  to  pull  down  other  sects,  to  make  room  for  their  own, 
which  will  probably  be  worse  than  its  predecessors. 

"  2.  I  am  surprised  and  enchanted  to  find  these  plain  Cape-Cod 
men  and  numerous  others,  who  have  made  actual  my  own  highest 
idea  of  a  church.  I  feel  strengthened  by  their  example.  Only 
let  it  be  united  with  high  intellectual  culture. 

"  3.  I  am  surprised  to  find  many  others  who  have  emancipated 
themselves  from  the  shams  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  now 
can  worship  God  at  first-hand,  and  pray  largely  and  like  men. 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  133 

I  don't  know  that  I  have  got  any  new  ideas  :  but  certainly  my 
confidence  in  my  old  ideas  has  been  deepened  ;  for  I  see  they 
may  be  made  actual. 

"  This  convention  effects  nothing  directly  by  its  long  string  of 
resolutions ;  but  it  does  much  indirectly.  It  sets  the  ball  in 
motion,  which  will  go  far  before  it  stops." 

If  it  was  a  bold  thing  to  attend  a  convention  of  "  Gome- 
outers  "  at  Groton,  it  was  a  bolder  thing  to  be  one  to  call 
a  convention  in  Boston  for  the  consideration  of  questions 
concerning  the  sabbath,  the  ministry,  and  the  church.  It 
was  held  in  Chardon  Street,  Nov.  17.  Few  acts  so  dam 
aging  to  reputation  could  be  done.  The  risks  of  inunda 
tion  from  all  kinds  of  radicalisms  were  very  great :  it  was 
striking  a  blow  at  the  heart  of  the  holiest  respectabilities, 
and  offering  a  large  opportunity  for  unruly  spirits  to  disport 
themselves.  "  All  my  friends  after  the  flesh,  and  some  of 
my  friends  after  the  spirit,  regretted  that  I  had  any  agency 
in  calling  the  convention.  Lamson,  a  beautiful  soul, 
doubts  the  convention ;  fears  bad  use  will  be  made  of 
truth  :  nous  verrons.  Dr.  Channing  also  doubts  the  pro 
priety  thereof,  since  it  looks  like  seeking  agitation  :  here, 
again,  we  shall  see.  I  have  my  own  doctrines,  and  shall 
support  them,  think  the  convention  as  it  may.  I  look  on 
the  Church  as  a  body  of  men  and  women  getting  together 
for  moral  and  religious  instruction,  on  the  minister  as  a 
moral  and  religious  teacher,  and  on  Sunday  as  a  day  set 
apart  from  work  and  common  secular  vocations.  All  of 
them  are  human  institutions,  but  each  valuable ;  I  would 
almost  say,  invaluable." 

The  convention  met,  discussed,  and  dissolved,  having 
brought  to  pass  no  very  great  result. 

From  the  Journal,  Sept.  23. 

"Went  to  Boston  to  attend  the  Non-resistant  Convention. 
Don't  agree  with  them  entirely,  but  like  their  spirit  and  upward 
tendency.  Like  not  their  formula  of  *  No  Human  Government.' 


134  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Think  circumstances  render  it  needful  sometimes  to  take  life. 
If  a  man  attack  me,  it  is  optional  on  my  part  to  suffer  or  to 
resist ;  but,  should  he  attack  my  wife  with  the  worst  of  purposes, 
why  should  I  surfer  the  wicked  to  destroy  the  righteous,  when 
I  could  save  her  by  letting  out  his  life  ?  I  should  deprecate  the 
issue  being  tendered  ;  but,  if  it  were  tendered,  I  have  little  doubt 
which  course  would  be  revealed  to  me  as  the  true  one." 

The  time,  however,  for  enlisting  in  special  reforms  had 
not  yet  come  to  Mr.  Parker.  General  questions  interested 
him  now  rather  than  particular  ones.  The  condition  of 
society  at  large  weighed  heavily  on  his  mind.  Like  all 
thoughtful  men  who  lead  secluded  and  bookish  lives, — we 
may  say,  in  proportion  as  they  lead  secluded  and  bookish 
lives,  —  he  was  interested  in  the  problem  of  evil.  The  sep 
arate  problems  of  evil  present  themselves  chiefly  to  those 
who  live  in  cities.  In  his  sweet  country  village,  books 
supplied  the  chief  materials  for  speculation  on  the  ills  of 
society.  The  writings  of  St.  Simon,  Victor  Considerant, 
Charles  Fourier,  and  others  of  the  various  schools  of 
socialism,  were  becoming  known  in  America,  and  their 
doctrines  were  already  creeping  into  our  speculations. 
Albert  Brisbane's  pamphlet,  in  part  a  reproduction  of 
Fourier,  had  attracted  attention.  It  pointed  out  the  vices 
and  miseries  of  modern  society,  and  proposed  to  cure 
them  by  reconstructing  society  itself  from  the  foundation, 
on  new  principles,  resting  on  a  new  philosophy  of  human 
nature.  Mr.  Parker  reads,  ponders  ;  thinks  the  book  will 
do  a  great  deal  of  good.  The  "phalanx"  does  not  appear 
to  him  more  improbable  than  a  city  may  be  presumed  to 
have  seemed  to  Abraham.  The  portrayal  of  the  evils  of 
society  strikes  him  forcibly:  he  is  glad  to  see  the  case 
stated  boldly. 

From  the  Journal. 

"  Brownson  has  recently  written  an  article  on  the  laboring- 
classes  calculated  to  call  the  philosophic  to  reflection.  He 
thinks  inherited  property  should  be  given  up  ;  that  the  relation 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  135 

of  master  and  servant,  employer  and  employed,  should  cease ; 
that  the  priest  is  the  chief  curse  to  society.  This  makes  a  great 
noise.  The  Whigs,  finding  their  sacramental  idea  —  money  — 
in  danger,  have  come  to  the  rescue  with  fire-brands  and  the  like 
weapons.  Fearful  lest  the  article  should  do  harm,  they  trumpet 
forth  to  the  people  those  doctrines,  which,  if  left  alone,  would 
come  only  to  scholars.  I  like  much  of  his  article,  though  his 
property  notions  agree  not  with  my  view.  Yet  certainly  the 
present  property  scheme  entails  awful  evils  upon  society,  rich 
no  less  than  poor.  This  question,  first,  of  inherited  property, 
and,  next,  of  all  private  property,  is  to  be  handled  in  the  nine 
teenth  century,  and  made  to  give  in  its  reason  why  the  whole 
thing  should  not  be  abated  as  a  nuisance. 

"  Society  now  rests  on  a  great  lie.  Money  and  service  have 
much  to  answer  for.  Can  one  man  serve  another  for  wages  with 
out  being  degraded  ?  Yes  ;  but  not  in  all  relations.  I  have  no 
moral  right  to  use  the  service  of  another,  provided  it  degrades 
him  in  my  sight,  in  that  of  his  fellows,  or  of  himself ;  yet  per 
sonal  service  is  connected  with  this  degradation." 

In  a  note  on  Murphy's  "  Science  of  Consciousness,"  he 
remarks,  "  This  book  is  but  a  straw  on  the  stream ;  but  it 
shows  which  way  the  current  sets ;  and  God  knows  what 
will  be  the  end  of  this  awful  movement.  Heaven  save  us 
from  an  English  reign  of  terror  !  .  .  . 

"  The  same  question  must  be  passed  on  in  America. 
Property  must  show  why  it  should  not  be  abated ;  labor, 
why  it  should  exempt  so  many  from  its  burdens,  and  crush 
others  therewith.  It  is  no  doubt  a  good  thing  that  I 
should  read  the  Greek  Anthology,  and  cultivate  myself  in 
my  leisure,  as  a  musk-melon  ripens  in  the  sun  ;  but  why 
should  I*  be  the  only  one  of  the  thousand  who  has  this 
chance  ?  True,  I  have  won  it  dearly,  laboriously ;  but 
others,  of  better  ability,  with  less  hardihood,  fail  in  the 
attempt,  ancl  serve  me  with  the  body.  It  makes  me  groan 
to  look  into  the  evils  of  society.  When  will  there  be  an 
end  ?  I  thank  God  I  am  not  born  to  set  the  matter  right. 
I  scarce  dare  attempt  a  reform  of  theology,  lest  I  should 


136  THEODORE  PARKER. 

be  in  for  the  whole ;  and  must  condemn  the  state   and 
society  no  less  than  the  church." 

From  the  Journal. 

"  Ripley  dislikes  the  customs  of  property,  —  a  father  transmit 
ting  it  to  his  son  ;  but  I  see  no  way  of  avoiding  the  evil.  The 
sin  lies  deeper  than  the  transmission  of  property  from  getter  to 
enjoyer.  It  lies  in  the  love  of  low  things,  and  in  the  idea  that 
work  degrades.  We  must  correct  this  notion,  and  then  all  is 
well ;  and,  before  that  is  done,  to  hew  down  the  institutions  of 
property,  and  cut  the  throats  of  all  that  own  lands,  would  do  little 
good.  How  the  world  ever  came  into  such  a  sad  state  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  conjecture :  how  it  is  to  get  out  of  it  is  impossible  to 
foretell." 

From  the  Journal. 

"  Mrs.  R.  gave  me  a  tacit  rebuke  for  not  shrieking  at  wrongs, 
and  spoke  of  the  danger  of  losing  our  humanity  in  abstractions. 
Many  remarks  of  hers  sank  deeply  into  me." 

From  the  Journal. 

"  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  shams  of  things,  and  to 
look  them  fairly  in  the  face.  i.  The  State  is  a  bundle  of  shams. 
It  is  based  on  force,  not  love.  It  is  still  feudal.  A  Christian 
State  is  an  anomaly,  like  a  square  circle.  Our  laws  degrade,  at 
the  beginning,  one-half  the  human  race,  and  sacrifice  them  to 
the  other  and  perhaps  worser  half.  Our  prisons  are  institu 
tions  that  make  more  criminals  than  they  mend :  seventeen- 
twentieths  of  crimes  are  against  property,  which  shows  that 
something  is  wrong  in  the  state  of  property.  Society  causes 
crimes,  and  then  hangs  the  criminals.  2.  The  Church  is  still 
worse.  It  is  a  colossal  lie.  It  is  based  on  the  letter  of  the 
Bible  and  the  notion  of  its  plenary  inspiration.  It  is  the  hos 
pital  of  fools,  the  resort  of  rooks  and  owls.  The  one  thing  it 
does  well  is  the  baptizing  of  babies." 

In  August  of  1840  Mr.  Parker  went  to  New  York  and 
visited  the  "  Tombs,"  which  he  thus  describes :  "  It  is  a 
large  block  of  buildings,  embracing  a  whole  square,  and 
comprising  a  court-house,  jail,  and  yards.  It  is  a  very 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  137 

magnificent  and  imposing  edifice  in  the  old  Egyptian  style. 
The  taste  which  would  expend  all  that  architecture  on  a 
building  so  loathsome  as  a  jail  is  most  wretched.  Shame 
that  the  disgrace  of  society  should  be  thus  arrayed  in 
costly  dress,  and  made  to  flaunt  before  the  public  eye  !  I 
went  into  the  court-house  to  see  '  justice '  administered. 
A  negro  was  on  trial  in  the  Court  of  Sessions  for  abusing 
his  wife.  It  seemed  to  me  the  place  was  well  called 
1  Egyptian '  from  the  darkness  that  covered  over  justice 
there  ;  and  *  Tombs,'  for  it  appears,  as  all  our  court-houses 
are,  the  sepulchre  of  equity.  How  can  it  be  '  justice ' 
to  punish  as  a  crime  what  the  institutions  of  society  ren 
der  unavoidable  ?  How  could  any  thing  better  be  ex 
pected  of  the  poor  wretches  daily  brought  up  to  that 
court,  exposed,  naked  as  they  are,  to  all  the  contamina 
tion  of  corrupt  society  ? 

"  This  poor  negro,  on  trial  for  a  crime,  showed  me  in 
miniature  the  whole  of  our  social  institutions,  i.  He  was 
the  victim  of  Christian  cupidity,  and  had  been  a  slave. 
2.  From  this  he  had  probably  escaped  by  what  was 
counted  a  crime  by  his  master ;  or  else  was  set  free  by 
charity,  perhaps  desiring  to  cover  up  its  own  sins.  3. 
He  was  cast  loose  in  a  society  where  his  color  debarred 
him  the  rights  of  a  man,  and  forced  him  to  count  himself 
a  beast,  with  nothing  to  excite  self-respect,  either  in  his 
condition,  his  history,  or  his  prospects.  Poor,  wretched 
man  !  What  is  life  to  him  ?  He  is  more  degraded  than 
the  savage ;  has  lost  much  in  leaving  Sahara,  and  gained 
infamy,  cold,  hunger,  and  —  the  white  man's  mercy  —  a 
prison  of  marble.  Oh,  what  wrongs  does  man  heap  on 
man ! " 

George  Ripley,  one  of  the  strongest  pulpit-speakers  in 
Boston,  was  so  pierced  and  wounded  by  the  sense  of 
social  abuses,  that,  in  full  sympathy  with  a  noble  wife,  he 
left  his  profession,  impatient  with  the  "foolishness  of 
preaching,"  sold  his  fine  library  at  auction,  and,  gathering 

12* 


138  THEODORE  PARKER. 

together  all  that  he  had,  inaugurated  the  enterprise  of 
associated  mind  and  labor  at  Brook  Farm.  The  experi 
ment  was  tried  in  a  spirit  of  deep  sincerity,  as  an  effort  to 
carry  out  in  some  degree  the  ethics  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  by  restoring  natural  and  primitive  relations  be 
tween  man  and  nature,  and  between  man  and  man.  Neither 
the  founder  nor  his  coadjutors  were  disciples  of  any  par 
ticular  teacher  of  socialism,  though  some  of  them  were 
acquainted  with  French  writings  on  the  subject.  The 
views  of  Fourier  were  understood  but  partially  through 
translators  and  interpreters  :  few  accepted  his  system  as 
a  whole.  The  spirit  that  animated  him  was  abroad  in 
society ;  but  the  opinions  he  formed  at  the  suggestion  of 
that  spirit  were  more  congenial  with  the  French  than  with 
the  English  or  American  mind.  The  problem  of  Brook 
Farm  was  the  practical  reconciliation  of  labor,  capital, 
and  culture,  by  mutual  participation  in  toil  and  its  results. 
This  is  not  the  place  to  give  an  account  of  an  undertak 
ing,  which,  from  obvious  causes,  did  not  prosper  either 
as  a  financial  speculation  or  as  a  social  scheme,  but  which 
brought  together  for  a  short  space  of  time  a  remarkable 
company  of  men  and  women,  most  of  whom  have  since 
been  distinguished  in  letters,  and  gave  to  all  who  were 
concerned  in  it  an  amount  of  pleasure  they  never  could 
have  obtained  otherwise,  and  never  will  recall  without 
feelings  of  hearty  satisfaction.  The  story  of  Brook  Farm 
is  a  story  which  the  cultivators  of  it  delight  to  tell  over  to 
their  friends.  Will  not  one  of  them  adequately  tell  it  to 
the  public  ? 

The  grounds  were,  by  a  short  cut  across  the  fields,  not 
more  than  a  mile  from  Mr.  Parker's  house.  The  spirit 
never  moved  him  to  take  part  in  the  enterprise.  He  was 
too  absorbingly  interested,  it  may  be,  in  the  theological 
reform  he  was  pushing,  to  throw  himself  with  force  into 
any  scheme  for  the  regeneration  of  society ;  or  perhaps 
the  instinct  of  practical  utility  which  he  followed  made 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  139 

such  schemes  seem  visionary.  But  he  was  a  frequent 
visitor,  and  a  keen  inspector  of  the  movement.  The  social 
freedom  there  was  a  delight  to  him ;  the  conversations 
were  a  lively  joy ;  and  no  one  relished  more  than  he  the 
fine  ironies  of  cultivated  ladies  bending  over  the  wash-tub, 
of  poets  guiding  the  plough,  or  of  philosophers  digging 
potatoes.  His  faith  in  the  undertaking  may  have  been 
small ;  but  his  entertainment  with  it  was  immense.  It  is 
probably  from  the  circumstance  that  the  experiment  took 
so  little  hold  of  his  mind  that  there  is  no  more  notice  of 
it  in  the  journal.  His  enjoyment  was  on  the  spot. 

Parker's  faculty  of  getting  fun  out  of  serious  things 
in  which  he  felt  a  truly  deep  concern,  and  at  which  even 
he  did  his  share  of  work,  is  shown  in  the  way  he  pleasantly 
laughed  at  "  The  Dial,"  a  magazine  for  literature,  philoso 
phy,  and  religion,  which  was  begun  in  1840.  He  wrote 
for  it  faithfully,  putting  into  it  some  admirable  articles  on 
literature,  theology,  and  ecclesiastical  affairs  ;  yet,  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend,  he  can  speak  of  it  thus :  — 


To  Dr.  Francis. 

DEC.  18,  1840. 

Apropos  of  "  The  Dial :  "  to  my  mind  it  bears  about  the  same 
relation  to  "  The  Boston  Quarterly  "  that  Antimachus  does  to 
Hercules,  Alcott  to  Brownson,  or  a  band  of  men  and  maidens 
daintily  arrayed  in  finery,  "  walking  in  a  vain  show,"  with  kid 
mitts  on  their  "  dannies,"  to  a  body  of  stout  men  in  blue  frocks, 
with  great  arms  and  hard  hands,  and  legs  like  the  Pillars  of 
Hercules.  If  I  were  going  to  do  the  thing  in  paint,  it  should  be 
thus  :  I  would  represent  a  body  of  minute  philosophers,  men 
and  maidens,  elegantly  dressed,  bearing  a  banner  inscribed  with 
"  The  Dial."  A  baby  and  a  pap-spoon  and  a  cradle  should  be 
the  accompaniment  thereof.  The  whole  body  should  have  "  rings 
on  their  fingers,  and  bells  on  their  toes,"  and  go  "  mincing  as 
they  walk,"  led  by  a  body  of  fiddlers,  with  Scott's  Claude  Halcro 
"playing  the  first  violin  and  repeating  new  poetry."  This  body 
of  the  excellent  should  come  out  of  a  canvas  city  of  Jerusalem 


140  THEODORE  PARKER. 

set  upon  a  hill.  On  the  other  hand  should  come  up  a  small 
body  of  warriors  looking  like  the  seven  chiefs  before  Thebes, 
and  swearing  as  they  did,  with  just  about  as  modest  devices  on 
their  shields.  They  should  be  men  who  looked  battles,  with 
organs  of  combativeness  big  as  your  fist.  They  should  be  cov 
ered  with  sweat  and  blood  and  dust,  with  an  earnest  look  and 
confident  tread.  "  Sonorous  metal  blowing  martial  sounds  " 
should  encourage  them.  At  their  head  should  stand  "  Orestes 
Augustus  Brownson,"  dressed  like  Daniel,  with  Goliath's  sword 
in  one  hand,  and  that  giant's  head  in  the  other.  Would  not 
this  make  a  picture  ? 

This  muscular  mind  was  impatient  of  amateur  perform 
ances  :  he  had  a  keen  eye  for  the  deficiencies  of  people 
who  put  themselves  forward  as  reformers  of  the  world,  but 
were  themselves  unreformed.  His  admiration  for  Miss 
Margaret  Fuller  was  qualified.  Here  is  the  mildest  judg 
ment  on  her  from  the  journal :  "  Miss  Fuller  came  Sat 
urday.  She  has  outgrown  Carlyle.  Well,  I  am  glad  :  I 
wish  the  world  had  outgrown  him.  She  thinks  Carlyle 
inferior  to  Coleridge  (doubt  this  much) ;  that  the  latter  will 
live,  and  the  former  be  forgot.  Miss  Fuller  is  a  critic,  not 
a  creator,  not  a  seer,  I  think.  Certainly  she  is  a  pro 
digious  woman,  though  she  puts  herself  upon  her  genius 
rather  too  much.  She  has  nothing  to  do  with  God  out  of 
her.  She  is  not  a  good  analyst,  not  a  philosopher." 
Character  was  uppermost  with  him.  The  moral  element 
was  decisive :  it  is  the  apparent  absence  of  it  that  stag 
gers  him  as  he  contemplates  the  system  of  nature.  Read 
this  from  the  journal :  — 

"  There  are  many  things  in  nature  which  are  utterly  incom 
prehensible  to  me.  They  are  contradictions  rather  than  excep 
tions.  I  mean  such  facts  as  the  following :  Alligators  devour 
their  own  young  till  they  are  too  large :  how  frightful  this  is  ! 
how  unlike  the  rest  of  God's  creation  !  Volcanoes  and  earth 
quakes  I  can  understand  :  they  do  not  puzzle  me.  Squirrels 
castrate  one  another.  I  have  often  shot  young  and  old  males 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  141 

deprived  of  a  part  of  their  generative  organs.  I  have  seen  two 
old  squirrels  seize  a  young  one  half  grown ;  and,  one  holding 
the  wretch,  the  other  plied  his  sharp  teeth,  and  emasculated  him. 
What  does  all  this  mean  ?  This  is  a  sad  symbol  of  what  man 
does.  Mr.  Alcott's  theory  accounts  for  it  better :  viz.,  the  world 
is  the  product  of  all  men  :  so  long  as  men  do  such  things,  some 
animals  will  do  likewise." 

This  was  penned  before  Darwinism  was  in  vogue,  or  the 
new  doctrine  of  evolution,  which  contents  itself  with  tracing 
the  development  of  life,  leaving  interpretations  to  the 
future.  "  Mr.  Alcott's  theory "  has  a  flavor  of  the  old 
orthodoxy,  which  ascribed  the  fall  of  nature  to  the  fall  of 
man  ;  a  theory  that  would  be  less  vulnerable  if  the  fall  of 
nature  had  succeeded  the  fall  of  man,  instead  of  preceding 
it,  as  for  the  most  part  it  does.  It  is  hard  to  believe  that 
the  fall  of  man  was  heavy  enough  to  shake  in  pieces  and 
disjoint  the  order  of  creation  which  had  existed  several 
hundred  thousand  years  before  he  came  ;  unless  indeed,  by 
making  the  whole  planet  reel,  he  jostled  out  of  place 
every  thing  upon  it.  This  ancient  theory  Mr.  Parker  dis 
carded  when  he  thought  of  it ;  and  he  had  no  other  to  put 
in  its  place.  He  could  only  observe  :  that  he  did.  He 
noted  the  cruelty  of  animals  towards  one  another,  —  the 
barbarity  of  the  cat  to  the  mouse,  which  she  tortures  before 
eating;  the  abortions  of  nature,  — the  monsters,  calves  with 
three  heads,  human  foetus  consisting  of  only  a  head,  and 
the  like  ;  the  robbery  which  the  bald  eagle  commits  on  the 
fish-hawk,  the  lion  on  the  jackal,  the  wolf  on  the  fox ;  the 
want  of  natural  affection,  —  wasps  destroying  their  young, 
bees  killing  drones,  &c.,  birds  driving  other  birds  from 
their  nests  and  then  appropriating  them,  ants  enslaving 
other  ants  ;  the  sins  against  nature  committed  by  numerous 
animals,  —  the  dog,  for  instance  ;  the  disgusting  practices 
of  apes,  frogs,  and  fishes  ;  things  that  suggest  a  dark  ele 
ment  in  the  creative  cause  of  the  world,  or  imply  that  mat 
ter  has  some  qualities  which  the  Deity  cannot  control. 


I42  THEODORE  PARKER. 

But  the  philosophy  of  dualism  he  will  not  accept :  it  seems 
to  him  inconsistent  with  common  sense. 

He  is  not  without  suspicion  of  a  law  of  development. 
He  marks  the  anticipations  or  prophecies  which  a  lower 
class  of  beings  afford  of  the  next  higher,  —  the  toes  in  the 
horse's  hoof;  the  fingers  beneath  the  skin;  the  singular 
man-likeness  of  certain  monkeys  ;  the  resemblance  to  hu 
man  limbs  noticed  in  some  plants,  as  the  orchis  and  lady's- 
slipper  :  but  the  clew  is  not  continuous  enough  to  lead  him 
far ;  and  he  sets  these  things  down  as  curious  facts,  which 
puzzle,  but  do  not  torment. 

"  If  we  look  scientifically  at  these  things,  and  attempt  to  clas 
sify  as  in  other  cases  of  scientific  examination,  shall  we  con 
clude  the  world  is  governed  by  an  infinitely  wise  and  good 
Being  ? 

"  I.  Notice  the  immense  physical  evils  occasioned  by  war, 
slavery,  oppression,  like  that  of  the  Turkish  rulers,  of  the  rich 
barons  ;  the  horrible  mutilations,  cruelties,  &c.,  that  take  place, 
even  in  these  days  ;  the  evils  of  sickness  and  poverty,  that  are 
without  fault  of  the  sufferer. 

"  II.  Note  the  exceeding  low  state  of  morals  in  all  lands,  in 
the  United  States,  even  in  Boston ;  how  unchristian  men  are ; 
yet  Christianity  is  only  absolute  humanity.  Note  the  selfish 
spirit,  money-getting,  ambition,  intemperance,  ignorance  ;  yet  this 
is  probably  one  of  the  most  favored  peoples.  Take  the  richest 
class  in  Boston  :  how  do  they  stand  when  tried  by  the  absolute 
standard  ? 

"  Note  still  further  the  prevalent  vices  in  other  countries,  — 
licentiousness  in  Italy,  Germany,  and  France.  We  may  say 
the  sin  in  each  individual  is  slight :  perhaps  there  is  no  sin  in 
the  matter ;  for  personal  sin  is  violation  of  conscience.  So  it 
may  be  an  absolute  sin,  viewed  from  the  point  of  pure  justice 
or  right,  and  not  a  personal  sin.  Still  the  consequences  are  the 
same :  i.  The  physical  evils  that  follow  the  violation  of  mate 
rial  law.  2.  The  degradation  of  the  individual,  so  that  con 
science  is  cast  down,  and  all  but  extinguished. 

"  Consider  the  superior  activity  of  evil  over  good.     Vice 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  143 

spreads  with  rapidity,  virtue  slowly.     Notice  tke  extreme  suffer 
ings  of  individuals. 

"  Now,  in  estimating  these  matters,  my  own  faith  says  there 
is  a  perfect  system  of  optimism  in  the  world  ;  that  each  man's 
life  is  to  him  an  infinite  good  :  of  course,  all  his  physical  evils 
must  be  means  of  progress  ;  all  his  vile  acts,  likewise,  unavoida 
ble  steps  in  his  course  to  happiness.  But,  to  legitimate  this  in 
the  court  of  the  understanding  where  all  other  truths  are  legiti 
mated,  I  find  difficult.  Faith  has  nothing  to  do  there.  I  will 
imagine  a  person  who  claims  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good,  and  suppose  myself  to  reply  to  the  arguments  I  should 
bring  in  such  a  case.  I  should  not  know  how  to  answer  him  : 
I  should  appeal  solely  to  faith  for  my  own  satisfaction." 

Thus  sincerely  he  faced  the  problems,  presenting  the 
difficulties  in  their  most  formidable  shape.  He  had,  how 
ever,  a  constitution  which  turned  away  naturally  from  the 
repulsive  side  of  creation.  A  single  flower  affected  him 
more  deeply  than  a  blasted  forest ;  a  beam  of  light  gave 
him  a  joy  that  many  cloudy  days  did  not  dispel.  He  was 
so  sensitive  to  beauty,  that  ugliness,  though  of  hundred 
fold  bulk,  scarcely  seemed  to  reach  him.  The  tender 
plant  growing  from  a  bed  of  rotted  leaves  justified  the 
pile  of  decay ;  the  violet  lifting  up  its  blue  eye  from  the 
cold  damp  ground  more  than  excused  the  ground.  Had 
his  temperament  been  less  buoyant  than  it  was,  his  heart 
must  have  fainted ;  for  no  spectral  optimism  would  have 
availed  against  the  terrible  realism  of  his  thought. 

To  Miss  E.  P.  Peabody. 

DEC.  18,  1840. 

At  different  stages  of  life  I  have  been  amazed  at  the  power  and 
the  wisdom  that  are  involved  in  the  creative  act ;  but  of  later 
years,  as  I  look  more  through  the  surfaces  of  things,  —  or,  at 
least,  try  to  do  so,  —  it  is  the  beauty  and  loving-kindness  of  God 
that  strike  me  most.  I  think,  with  you,  that  we  can  apprehend 
the  creative  moment  through  love,  and  through  that  alone.  It  is 
this  that  solves  all  the  mystery.  It  cares  little  for  the  details  of 
the  work,  but  tells  us  at  once,  "  Out  of  the  depths  of  infinite 


144  THEODORE  PARKER. 

love  God  drew  forth  the  world.  O  mortal !  whoever  thou  art, 
thank  God  that  thou  art  born,  and  take  courage  ;  for  thou  also 
art  a  child  of  infinite  love,  and  all  of  the  past  is  working  in  thy 
behalf :  so  fear  not.  What  though  you  weep  a  little  as  you 
scatter  the  seed,  and  the  cold  rain  of  spring  drenches  and  chills 
you :  from  this  very  field  you  shall  fill  your  bosom  with 
sheaves  of  satisfaction."  To  me,  this  thought,  this  feeling,  is 
enough  to  wipe  the  tear  from  my  eye  at  any  time.  It  is  infi 
nite  counsel  and  infinite  comfort.  It  has  been  adequate  for  all 
the  trials  I  have  yet  found,  and  I  trust  it  will  help  me  "  till  the 
world  ends."  I  often  wish  I  could  impart  this  same  feeling  to 
others ;  but  the  attempt  always  reminds  me  of  the  truth  in  Plato  : 
"  It  is  of  all  things  the  most  difficult  to  find  out  God,  and  impos 
sible  to  communicate  him  to  others."  Yet  it  has  come  to  me  with 
little  conscious  difficulty.  I  sometimes  try  —  yes,  it  is  the  object 
of  my  preaching  —  to  lead  all  to  this  same  "  watch-tower  in  the 
skies  :  "  but  they  tell  me,  "  Look  at  the  evil,  the  wretchedness, 
the  sin  of  the  worlcl,  the  wrongs  '  that  patient  merit  of  the  unwor 
thy  takes  ' !  "  as  if  I  could  not  see  them  all,  and  feel  some  of  them. 
I  wish  you  would  tell  me,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  some  better  method 
of  doing  this  :  you  are  the  all-sympathizer,  and  must  know  how 
to  do  this  kindly  office  also.  Prithee  tell  me  how  you  would  go 
to  work  to  "  create  a  sou!  under  the  ribs  of  death,"  and  give  this 
confidence  to  one  who  lacks  it  still. 

To  impart  his  faith  he  finds  difficult.  When  others  sug 
gest  their  doubts  and  fears,  he  often  stands  dumb,  praying 
internally  for  them,  and  hoping  that  time  will  bring  them 
repose.  But  for  his  own  part,  however  much  his  heart 
may  be  wrung,  the  serenity  of  his  soul  is  unbroken.  The 
following  passage  on  death  is  taken  from  a  letter :  — 

"  How  few  of  us  are  there  that  are  bound  to  the  mortal  by  ties 
so  strong  we  would  not  willingly  see  them  severed  at  almost  any 
time !  Even  those  who  reluct  a  little  at  the  thought  of  death 
are  usually  unwilling  on  their  friend's  account,  not  on  their  own. 
Death  is  always  a  blessing  to  him  who  dies  :  the  man  ceases  to 
be  mortal.  I  cannot  look  on  this  change  which  takes  place  in 
the  animal  system  with  that  terror  wherewith  some  men  regard 


THE  FERMENT  OF  THOUGHT.  145 

it.  To  me  it  is  a  change  which  is  always  made  for  the  better,  — 
an  important  change,  it  is  true  ;  but  it  is  no  more  to  a  man  than 
the  change  from  the  infant's  '  long-clothes '  to  the  '  frock  and 
trousers '  of  the  boy. 

"  I  understand,  therefore,  why  Swedenborg  found  men  in  the 
other  world  who  had  forgotten  all  about  their  death  ;  in  a  word, 
did  not  remember  they  had  ever  died.  Perhaps  most  men  do 
not  remember  any  thing  about  their  change  from  'baby-clothes  ' 
to  the  boy's  dress.  Why  need  they  think  any  more  about  death, 
or  fear  it  any  more  ?  I  have  not  forgotten  all  about  my  change 
of  dress.  I  remember  that  I  cried,  and  struggled  most  lustily 
against  the  new  dress  ;  and,  when  my  legs  were  squeezed  into 
their  new  envelopes,  I  was  so  ashamed,  that  I  went  into  the  fields 
to  hide  myself.  I  doubt  that  I  should  complain  half  so  much  if 
Death  were  to  come  with  the  new  suit,  and  tell  me  to  lay  aside  my 
old  rags,  and  put  on  the  new  clothes. 

"  Are  we  not  foolish  in  talking  about  preparing  to  die  ?  Our 
business  is  to  live.  He  that  is  prepared  to  live,  andyf/  to  live,  is 
fittest  to  die  :  is  he  not  ?  To  wear  well  the  one  suit  is  to  prepare 
well  for  the  next.  I  am  sometimes  disturbed  by  the  canting  talk 
one  hears  about  preparing  to  die.  I  want  to  live  ;  for  the  soul 
never  tells  you  or  me  that  we  shall  die.  The  senses  die  ;  and  so 
death  is  an  affair  of  the  senses,  —  too  sensual  a  matter  for  wise 
men  to  concern  themselves  much  about." 

I  cannot  more  fitly  close  this  chapter,  or  the  thoughts  it 
contains,  than  with  the  prayer  written  out  in  his  journal 
at  the  close  of  the  year.  Such  words  of  supplication  close 
all  the  years.  Prayer  was  as  natural  to  Theodore  Parker 
as  breathing :  it  was  breathing,  —  the  deep  inspiration  of 
his  soul,  as  he  stood  at  the  "  eastern  window  of  divine 
surprise,"  and  caught  the  breeze  from  the  "  mountains 
of  the  dawn."  It  is  not  often  pleasant  to  come  across 
written  prayers  in  a  private  diary ;  but  his  seem  like  the 
efflorescence  of  what  went  before. 

PRAYER. 

"  O  thou  Spirit  whom  no  name  can  measure,  and  no  thought 
contain  ;  thou  to  whom  years  are  as  nothing,  and  who  art  from 
13 


146  THEODORE  PARKER. 

everlasting  to  everlasting  !  I  thank  thee  that  my  life  still  lasts 
from  year  to  year.  I  thank  thee  that  my  cup  is  full  of  blessings. 
But  I  would  bless  thee  still  if  thou  didst  fill  my  cup  with 
grief,  and  turn  my  day  into  night.  Yea,  O  God,  my  Father  !  I 
will  bless  thee  for  whatever  thou  shalt  send.  I  know  it  is  all 
very  good.  I  bless  thee  that  thou  art  still  very  nigh  me ;  that 
thou  speakest  to  my  heart  from  year  to  year.  Thou  kindlest 
my  faith  ;  thou  quickenest  my  love  ;  thou  castest  down  my  fear. 
When  my  father  and  mother  forsake  me,  thou  wilt  take  me  up. 
O  my  God  !  bless  me  still  this  coming  year.  Be  not  afar  off. 
May  I  never  become  false  to  thy  gift !  Let  my  eyes  be  open, 
my  heart  true  and  warm,  my  faith  pure  and  heavenly.  May 
religion  dwell  in  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  my  heart ;  let  it  be 
my  daily  life  !  And,  wherever  the  years  shall  find  me,  may  I  do 
my  duty  without  fear,  and  so  live  on,  lying  low  in  thy  hanu,  and 
blessed  by  thy  goodness  !  Amen." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   UNITARIAN   CONTROVERSY. 

IT  has  by  this  time  been  made  clear  that  Mr.  Parker 
was  not  a  rash  innovator  either  in  doctrine  or  in  practice. 
He  was  as  far  from  that  as  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  be 
whose  steps  take  hold  on  new  paths  at  all.  By  sentiment, 
affection,  association,  practical  bent  of  mind,  he  was  con 
servative,  not  destructive.  He  had  no  disposition  to 
break  the  bruised  reed,  or  to  quench  the  smoking  flax. 
He  loved  the  church,  the  ministry,  the  brethren.  Though 
swift  in  reception,  he  was  deliberate  and  cautious  in 
creation.  He  took  time  in  coming  to  conclusions,  and 
waited  his  opportunity.  Bearing  testimony  "in  season 
and  out  of  season  "  was  not  his  way.  He  would  be  sure 
before  he  made  up  his  mind  ;  he  would  be  sure  before  his 
intimate  friend  knew  that  his  mind  was  made  up.  All 
things  considered,  it  is  surprising  that  his  old  opinions 
gave  place  so  reluctantly  to  new  ones.  What  he  believed 
was  too  strongly  rooted  in  his  tenacious  mind  to  be 
pulled  up  by  even  a  strong  hand  at  the  first  effort.  Like 
Luther,  he  clung  to  the  faith  of  his  youth  as  long  as  it 
would  allow.  In  the  Divinity  School,  although  he  had 
talked  much  with  Mr.  Francis,  and  read  many  a  book  of 
a  rationalizing  tendency,  he  was  old-fashioned  in  his  opin 
ions  for  a  Unitarian.  The  elder  ministers  were  his  admi 
ration.  His  relation  to  Miss  Cabot  brought  him  into 
familiar  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Ripley,  afterwards  his 


148  THEODORE  PARKER. 

bosom-friend,  who  was  importing  the  latest  books  in  Ger 
man  philosophy  and  criticism,  and  reading  them  with  eager 
interest.  They  were  freely  lent  to  the  young  student,  to 
whom  all  literature  was  manna  from  heaven,  and  in  whose 
warm  veins  all  honest  thought  made  blood.  The  books 
were,  with  hardly  an  exception,  unorthodox,  in  most  cases 
vehemently  so  ;  and,  being  learned  and  strong,  they  natu 
rally  modified  the  student's  mind.  Parker  had  never 
identified  literature  with  faith,  however  closely  he  may 
have  held  them  associated ;  and  so,  without  serious  mis 
givings,  he  suffered  the  literature  of  religion  to  undergo 
inevitable  changes.  His  views  of  scripture,  of  miracle, 
prophecy,  apostolical  and  other  infallibility,  became  altered 
from  month  to  month,  as  matter  of  course.  Truth  to  him 
was  truth. 

But  these  books  contained  a  good  deal  besides  criticism  : 
they  contained  philosophy  of  a  new  school.  The  re-action 
against  the  philosophy  of  sensation,  supported  by  the 
authority  of  John  Locke,  and  pushed  to  extremity  by  David 
Hume,  —  a  re-action  which  began  with  Kant  in  the  last  cen 
tury,  and  continued  through  Fichte  and  Schelling,  —  had 
carried  before  it  the  living  mind  of  Germany.  The  great 
names  in  literature  became  great  through  its  inspiration. 
Richter,  Goethe,  Schiller,  were  its  prophets;  Schleier- 
macher  and  Herder  were  its  apostles ;  Staiidlin  and  Am- 
mon,  Gabler  and  Wegscheider,  were  its  theological  exposi 
tors  ;  Strauss  and  De  Wette  assumed  it.  The  doctrine  of 
intuition,  that  truth  is  disclosed  immediately  to  the 
reason  or  the  soul,  took  place  of  the  doctrine  of  sensation, 
that  truth  is  revealed  by  mediation  of  book ;  and  the 
authority  of  all  outward  instrumentalities,  church,  bible, 
creed,  was  tacitly  repudiated  before  a  single  scripture 
was  doubted,  or  a  single  miracle  denied.  The  vessels  of 
dogma,  rite,  ceremony,  church,  were  not  scuttled  until  the 
spiritual  freight  they  carried  had  been  transferred  to  the 
spiritual  nature,  there  to  be  secure  from  hidden  reef  or 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  149 

sudden  tempest.  In  England  the  transcendental  move 
ment  was  represented  by  Coleridge,  who  was  a  student  of 
Schelling.  Thomas  Carlyle  came  later,  with  reproductions 
of  Jean  Paul  and  his  own  tremendous  preaching  against 
shams  in  church,  state,  and  society.  France  took  the 
work  in  hand  according  to  her  genius,  not  with  philosophic 
profundity  or  critical  acuteness,  but  with  neat  faculty  of 
generalizing  and  explaining,  —  Victor  Cousin,  and  Jean 
Philibert  Damiron,  and  Benjamin  Constant,  and  Theo 
dore  Simon  Jouffroy,  each  after  his  own  manner,  and  in 
his  own  department,  vindicating  the  competence  of  the 
human  reason.  The  writings  of  these  men,  especially 
of  Cousin,  Jouffroy,  and  Constant,  were  known  here 
in  the  original,  or  through  translations  by  George  Ripley 
and  William  H.  Channing.  America  had  a  prophet  and 
seer  all  its  own,  beholding  and  announcing  the  same 
great  vision  on  this  side  of  the  water,  Parker's  admiration 
of  whom  was  early  and  boundless.  "The  brilliant  ge 
nius  of  Emerson,"  he  says,  "rose  in  the  winter  nights 
and  hung  over  Boston,  drawing  the  eyes  of  ingenuous 
young  people  to  look  up  to  that  great  new  star,  '  a  beauty 
and  a  mystery/  which  charmed  for  the  moment,  while  it 
gave  also  perennial  inspiration,  as  it  led  them  forward 
along  new  paths  and  towards  new  hopes." 

The  new  philosophy  commended  itself  to  Parker  at 
once,  like  his  mother's  milk.  Religion  had  always  been 
a  spiritual  thing  with  him  from  his  childhood,  never  a 
formal  or  doctrinal  thing.  He  never  knew  what  it  was  to 
be  converted  from  the  philosophy  of  sensation  to  the 
philosophy  of  intuition.  As  a  boy,  he  was  a  transcenden- 
talist  without  knowing  it.  When  he  became  a  man,  he 
was  a  transcendentalist  on  conviction.  Then  reason 
legitimated  what  he  had  always  felt :  the  piety  of  the 
heart  became  the  philosophy  of  the  intellect.  His  only 
task  was  to  remove  from  the  new  spiritual  temple,  which 
was  rising  in  beauty,  the  rubbish  of  former  edifices  that 
'3* 


150  THEODORE  PARKER. 

once  stood  on  the  same  ground;  and  this  task  he  per 
formed  with  great  cheer,  presuming  on  the  copious  grati 
tude  of  his  generation  for  the  work  performed. 

But  the  Unitarians  were  not  in  a  mood  to  be  thankful 
for  such  service.  They,  with  very  few  exceptions,  looked 
on  their  work  as  done.  They  had  proved,  to  their  own 
satisfaction  at  least,  that  the  dogmas  of  Trinity,  Deity 
of  Christ,  Vicarious  Atonement,  Total  Depravity,  and  Ev 
erlasting  Damnation,  were  unsupported  by  Scripture,  and 
they  were  in  the  main  content.  Precisely  what  was  sup 
ported  by  Scripture  they  did  not  undertake  specifically  to 
declare  ;  but  that  whatever  was  accepted  must  be  accepted 
on  the  authority  of  Scripture,  they  did  not  question.  "To 
the  law  and  to  the  testimony  !  "  was  their  cry.  In  textual 
criticism  they  showed  themselves  skilful ;  but  behind  the 
text  they  did  not  go.  The  genuineness  and  the  authen 
ticity  of  the  New  Testament,  the  plenary  authority  of  the 
apostles,  the  supernatural  origin  and  divine  mission  of 
the  Christ,  the  inspiration  of  the  prophets,  the  validity  of 
miracles  as  credentials  of  the  Messiah  and  his  officers, 
were  accepted  truths.  The  Unitarians  were,  almost  to  a 
man,  disciples  of  John  Locke,  —  professors  more  or  less, 
probably  less,  intelligent  of  the  philosophy  that  the  great 
religious  ideas  —  God,  immortality,  duty  —  were  given  to 
the  world  through  external  revelation  imparted  by  men 
inspired  for  the  purpose,  written  in  "  sacred  books,"  and 
authenticated  by  signs  and  wonders.  Half  a  dozen 
minds,  perhaps,  had  distinctly  outgrown  this  position. 
Dr.  Channing  was  outside  of  it  so  far  as  the  fresh  vigor 
of  his  moral  sense  revolted  against  the  conventional  ethics 
of  his  sect,  ana?  his  aspiration  after  a  nobler  humanity 
transcended  the  dull  level  of  respectability  where  the 
Unitarians  as  a  party  stood  ;  but  he  seems  never  to  have 
been  a  complete  transcendentalist.  The  Wares  were  full 
of  evangelical  piety,  and  were  honest-minded  as  men 
could  be  ;  but  they  were  neither  deep  students  nor  bold 


THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  151 

adventurers  into  new  fields  of  speculative  thought.  A 
few  scholarly  men  of  fine  literary  culture  read  the  Ger 
man  and  French  books  ;  entertained  their  minds  with  the 
new  thoughts ;  took  an  intelligent  interest  in  them ;  ac 
cepted  in  their  libraries  the  conclusions  of  Herder, 
Schleiermacher,  Gabler,  De  Wette ;  but  felt  no  call  to 
announce  their  discoveries,  lacking  the  moral  earnest 
ness,  or  the  faith  in  the  people,  or  the  sense  of  profes 
sional  duty,  or  the  vitality  of  interest,  that  the  reformer's 
task  demanded.  Among  the  ablest  and  most  accomplished 
were  some,  who,  from  the  constitution  of  their  minds, 
could  not  take  a  side.  As  students,  thinkers,  men  of  let 
ters,  they  had  their  opinions,  and  rather  startling  ones, 
too,  in  some  cases ;  but,  as  clergymen,  they  considered  it 
their  office  to  repeat  the  traditions  and  teach  the  received 
theology  in  the  most  reasonable  form. 

The  sect,  as  such,  was  torpid.  It  was  respectable,  and 
wished  to  remain  so.  It  had  put  off  its  armor,  and  flung 
itself  down  on  the  grass,  and  was  unwilling  to  be  dis 
turbed.  Its  piety  was  low:  the  sermon  had  become  a 
moral  essay ;  the  hymns  were  didactic  ;  the  prayers  were 
dry ;  the  passion  for  holiness  had  cooled  down  to  a  sense 
of  propriety.  The  creative  period  of  the  movement  had 
passed ;  and  the  apathy  was  the  deeper  as  the  stir  had 
been  shallower.  When  Luther  parted  from  Romanism,  he 
was  in  the  open  sea,  with  the  great  winds  blowing  and  the 
mighty  waves  tossing  about  him  j  but,  when  the  Wares 
and  Buckminster  and  their  compeers  left  Protestantism, 
they  were  comfortably  near  shore,  and  soon  tethered  qui 
etly  to  the  wharf.  The  Unitarians  were  about  as  compla 
cent  a  set  of  Christians  as  ever  took  ship  for  the  king 
dom. 

In  parting  from  Protestantism,  Theodore  Parker,  on  the 
contrary,  believed  himself  to  be  slipping  his  moorings,  and 
going  out  into  the  open  sea,  —  the  deep  sea  of  truth.  A  man 
of  complete  integrity,  an  undivided  nature,  all  of  one  piece, 


152  THEODORE  PARKER. 

he  could  make  no  practical  distinction  between  man  and 
minister,  scholar  and  preacher,  man  of  letters  and  man 
of  duty.  All  his  thoughts  were  beliefs ;  all  his  beliefs 
were  convictions.  The  nice  discrimination  between  opin 
ions  of  the  library  and  opinions  of  the  pulpit  was  un 
known  to  him.  Already  his  outspokenness  had  made  him 
suspected  as  a  disturber  of  the  peace :  he  had  received 
warning  letters  ;  had  been  called  "  infidel ; "  brethren  had 
been  prevented  from  exchanging  pulpits  with  him  by  "  ill 
health,"  "home  engagements,"  "frequent  absence  from 
their  desks ;  "  but  no  open  rupture  had  taken  place,  nei 
ther  party  being  aware  how  wide  the  gulf  had  become. 

The  revelation  was  made  on  the  now  famous  occasion 
of  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Charles  C.  Shackford  at  South 
Boston,  on  the  igih  of  May,  1841.  Mr.  Parker  preached 
the  sermon,  on  "  The  Transient  and  Permanent  in  Chris 
tianity,"  from  the  text,  "  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away ;  but  my  word  shall  not  pass  away." 

It  was  a  memorable  sermon.  Though  written  in  a 
week  of  languor ;  though  regarded  as  poor  by  the  preacher, 
and  pronounced  by  a  friend  to  whom  it  was  read  before 
delivery  to  be  the  weakest  thing  he  had  ever  done; 
though  loose  in  structure,  redundant  in  style,  and  shad 
owy  in  definition,  —  it  was  a  remarkable  discourse,  the 
more  effective  from  the  faults,  that  were  such  to  the 
critical  hearer  alone.  The  gorgeous  amplitude  struck 
the  popular  imagination ;  and  the  moral  earnestness  that 
throbbed  in  the  speaker's  heart,  and  thrilled  to  his  fingers' 
ends,  made  itself  felt  like  the  presage  of  a  revolution. 
Not  to  be  a  moment  compared,  as  a  work  of  art,  with 
Emerson's  exquisite  chant  three  years  before,  as  a  mani 
festo  it  was  vastly  more  significant.  The  opening  passage 
sounds  an  alarm :  — 

"  In  this  sentence  we  have  a  very  clear  indication  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  believed  the  religion  he  taught  would 
be  eternal ;  that  the  substance  of  it  would  last  forever. 


THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  153 

Yet  there  are  some  who  are  affrighted  by  the  faintest 
rustle  which  a  heretic  makes  among  the  dry  leaves  of 
theology :  they  tremble  lest  Christianity  itself  should 
perish  without  hope.  Ever  and  anon  the  cry  is  raised, 
*  The  Philistines  be  upon  us,  and  Christianity  is  in  dan 
ger  ! ' '  On  this  hint  the  discourse  proceeds,  gathering 
volume  as  it  goes  on,  and  ploughing  a  furrow  that  was 
not  to  be  mistaken,  through  the  whole  ecclesiastical 
domain.  A  few  sentences  will  explain  the  effect  the 
sermon  produced :  — 

"  Jesus  felt  his  words  were  for  eternity  ;  so  he  trusted  them  to 
the  uncertain  air  :  and  for  eighteen  hundred  years  that  faithful 
element  has  held  them  good,  distinct  as  when  first  warm  from 
his  lips.  Now  they  are  translated  into  every  human  speech,  and 
murmured  in  all  earth's  thousand  tongues,  from  the  pine-for 
ests  of  the  North  to  the  palm-groves  of  Eastern  Ind.  They 
mingle,  as  it  were,  with  the  roar  of  the  populous  city,  and  join 
the  chime  of  the  desert  sea.  Of  a  sabbath  morn  they  are  re 
peated  from  church  to  church,  from  isle  to  isle,  and  land  to  land, 
till  their  music  goes  round  the  world.  These  words  have 
become  the  breath  of  the  good,  the  hope  of  the  wise,  the  joy 
of  the  pious,  and  that  for  many  millions  of  hearts.  They  are 
the  prayers  of  our  churches,  our  better  devotion  by  fireside  and 
fieldside,  the  enchantment  of  our  hearts.  It  is  these  words  that 
still  work  wonders  to  which  the  first-recorded  miracles  were 
nothing  in  grandeur  and  utility.  It  is  these  which  build  our 
temples  and  beautify  our  homes.  They  raise  our  thoughts  of 
sublimity ;  they  purify  our  ideal  of  purity ;  they  hallow  our 
prayer  for  truth  and  love  ;  they  make  beauteous  and  divine  the 
life  which  plain  men  lead ;  they  give  wings  to  our  aspirations. 
What  charmers  they  are !  Sorrow  is  lulled  at  their  bidding. 
They  take  the  sting  out  of  disease,  and  rob  adversity  of  his 
power  to  disappoint.  .  .  . 

"  Looking  at  the  word  of  Jesus,  at  real  Christianity,  the  pure 
religion  he  taught,  nothing  appears  more  fixed  and  certain.  Its 
influence  widens  as  light  extends  ;  it  deepens  as  the  nations 
grow  more  wise.  But,  looking  at  the  history  of  what  men  call 
Christianity,  nothing  seems  more  uncertain  and  perishable.  .  .  . 


154  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  stream  of  time  has  already  beat  down  philosophies  and 
theologies,  temple  and  church,  though  never  so  old  and  revered. 
How  do  we  know  there  is  not  a  perishing  element  in  what  we 
call  Christianity  ?  Jesus  tells  us  his  word  is  the  word  of  God, 
and  so  shall  never  pass  away :  but  who  tells  us  that  our  word 
shall  never  pass  away ;  that  our  notion  of  his  word  shall  stand 
forever  ?  .  .  . 

"For  centuries,  the  doctrines  of  the  Christians  were  no 
better,  to  say  the  least,  than  those  of  their  contemporary  pagans. 
The  theological  doctrines  derived  from  our  fathers  seem  to  have 
come  from  Judaism,  heathenism,  and  the  caprice  of  philosophers, 
far  more  than  they  have  come  from  the  principle  and  the  senti 
ment  of  Christianity.  As  old  religions  became  superannuated 
and  died  out,  they  left  to  the  rising  faith,  as  to  a  residuary  legatee, 
their  forms  and  their  doctrines  ;  or,  rather,  as  the  giant  in  the 
fable  left  his  poisoned  garment  to  work  the  overthrow  of  his 
conqueror.  .  .  .  The  stream  of  Christianity,  as  men  receive  it, 
has  caught  a  stain  from  every  soil  it  has  filtered  through ;  so 
that  now  it  is  not  the  pure  water  from  the  well  of  life  which  is 
offered  to  our  lips,  but  streams  troubled  and  polluted  by  man 
with  mire  and  dirt.  ...  On  the  authority  of  the  written  Word, 
man  was  taught  to  believe  impossible  legends,  conflicting  asser 
tions  ;  to  take  fiction  for  fact,  a  dream  for  a  miraculous  revela 
tion  of  God,  an  Oriental  poem  for  a  grave  history  of  miraculous 
events,  a  collection  of  amatory  idyls  for  a  serious  discourse 
'touching  the  mutual  love  of  Christ  and  the  Church.'  They 
have  been  taught  to  accept  a  picture  sketched  by  some  glowing 
Eastern  imagination,  never  intended  to  be  taken  for  a  reality,  as 
a  proof  that  the  infinite  God  spoke  in  human  words,  appeared 
in  the  shape  of  a  cloud,  a  flaming  bush,  or  a  man  who  ate  and 
drank,  and  vanished  into  smoke  ;  that  he  gave  counsels  to-day, 
and  the  opposite  to-morrow  ;  that  he  violated  his  own  laws  ;  was 
angry,  and  was  only  dissuaded  by  a  mortal  man  from  destroying 
a  whole  nation.  .  .  .  What  was  originally  a  presumption  of 
bigoted  Jews  became  an  article  of  faith  which  Christians  were 
burned  for  not  believing.  .  .  .  Matters  have  come  to  such  a 
pass,  that  even  now  he  is  deemed  an  infidel,  if  not  by  implica 
tion  an  atheist,  whose  reverence  for  the  Most  High  forbids  him 
to  believe  that  God  commanded  Abraham  to  sacrifice  his  son,  — 
a  thought  at  which  the  flesh  creeps  with  horror ;  to  believe  it 


THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  155 

solely  on  the  authority  of  an  Oriental  story,  written  down 
nobody  knows  when  or  by  whom,  or  for  what  purpose  ;  which 
may  be  a  poem,  but  cannot  be  the  record  of  a  fact,  unless  God 
is  the  author  of  confusion  and  a  lie.  .  .  .  Modern  criticism  is 
fast  breaking  to  pieces  this  idol  which  men  have  made  out  of 
the  Scriptures.  .  .  .  Men  have  been  bid  to  close  their  eyes  at 
the  obvious  difference  between  Luke  and  John  ;  the  serious  dis 
agreement  between  Paul  and  Peter  ;  to  believe,  on  the  smallest 
evidence,  accounts  which  shock  the  moral  sense  and  revolt  the 
reason,  and  tend  to  place  Jesus  in  the  same  series  with  Hercules 
and  Apollonius  of  Tyana.  .  .  .  Men  who  cry  down  the  absur 
dities  of  paganism  in  the  worst  spirit  of  the  French  *  free 
thinkers  '  call  others  infidels  and  atheists  who  point  out, 
though  reverently,  other  absurdities  which  men  have  piled  upon 
Christianity.  So  the  world  goes. 

"  Almost  every  sect  that  has  ever  been  makes  Christianity 
rest  on  the  personal  authority  of  Jesus,  and  not  the  immutable 
truth  of  the  doctrines  themselves,  or  the  authority  of  God,  who 
sent  him  into  the  world.  Yet  it  seems  difficult  to  conceive 
any  reason  why  moral  and  religious  truths  should  rest  for 
their  support  on  the  personal  authority  of  their  revealer,  any 
more  than  the  truths  of  science  on  that  of  him  who  makes 
them  known  first  or  most  clearly.  .  .  .  To  judge  the  future 
by  the  past,  the  former  authority  of  the  Old  Testament  can 
never  return.  The  ancient  belief  in  the  infallible  inspiration  of 
each  sentence  of  the  New  Testament  is  fast  changing,  —  very 
fast.  One  writer,  not  a  sceptic,  but  a  Christian  of  unques 
tioned  piety,  sweeps  off  the  beginning  of  Matthew ;  another 
of  a  different  church,  and  equally  religious,  the  end  of  John. 
Numerous  critics  strike  off  several  Epistles.  The  Apocalypse 
itself  is  not  spared,  notwithstanding  its  concluding  curse.  .  .  . 
If  it  could  be  proved  that  the  Gospels  were  the  fabrication  of 
designing  and  artful  men,  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  had  never 
lived,  still  Christianity  would  stand  firm,  and  fear  no  evil.  .  .  . 
The  history  of  the  Christian  world  might  well  be  summed  up  in 
one  word  of  the  evangelist,  —  *  And  there  they  crucified  Him.' 
.  .  .  Measure  Jesus  by  the  world's  greatest  sons,  how  poor 
they  are  !  try  him  by  the  best  of  men,  how  little  and  low  they 
appear  !  Exalt  him  as  much  as  we  may,  we  shall  yet,  perhaps, 
come  short  of  the  mark.  But,  still,  was  he  not  our  brother  ? 


156  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the  son  of  man  as  we  are  ?  the  Son  of  God,  like  ourselves  ? 
.  .  .  Who  shall  tell  us  that  another  age  will  not  smile  at  our 
doctrines,  disputes,  and  unchristian  quarrels  about  Christiani 
ty,  and  make  wide  the  mouth  at  men  who  walked  brave  in 
Orthodox  raiment,  delighting  to  blacken  the  names  of  heretics, 
and  repeat  again  the  old  charge,  *  He  hath  blasphemed '  ?  .  .  . 
In  an  age  of  corruption,  Jesus  stood  and  looked  up  to  God. 
There  was  nothing  between  him  and  the  Father  of  all.  And 
we  never  are  Christians  as  he  was  the  Christ  until  we  worship 
as  Jesus  did,  with  no  mediator,  with  nothing  between  us  and 
the  Father  of  all.  .  .  . 

"  Already  men  of  the  same  sect  eye  one  another  with  sus 
picion  and  lowering  brows  that  indicate  a  storm,  and,  like  chil 
dren  who  have  fallen  out  in  their  play,  call  hard  names.  The 
question  puts  itself  to  each  man,  *  Will  you  cling  to  what  is 
perishing,  or  embrace  what  is  eternal  ? '  This  question  each 
must  answer  for  himself.  My  friends,  if  you  receive  the 
notions  about  Christianity  which  chance  to  be  current  in  your 
sect  or  church  solely  because  they  are  current,  there  will 
always  be  enough  to  commend  you  for  soundness  of  judgment, 
prudence,  and  good  sense,  —  enough  to  call  you  Christian  for 
that  reason.  But,  if  this  is  all  your  religion,  alas  for  you  !  The 
ground  will  shake  under  your  feet  if  you  attempt  to  walk  up 
rightly  and  like  men.  You  will  be  afraid  of  every  new  opinion, 
lest  it  shake  down  your  church  ;  you  will  fear,  '  lest,  if  a  fox 
go  up,  he  will  break  down  your  stone  wall.'  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  take  the  true  Word  of  God,  and  live  out  this,  nothing 
shall  harm  you.  Men  may  mock  ;  but  their  mouthfuls  of  wind 
shall  be  blown  back  upon  their  own  face.  .  .  .  And  alas  for 
that  man  who  consents  to  think  one  thing  in  his  closet,  and 
preach  another  in  his  pulpit  !  God  shall  judge  him  in  his 
mercy,  not  man  in  his  wrath.  But  over  his  study  and  over  his 
pulpit  might  be  writ  '  EMPTINESS  ; '  on  his  canonical  robes,  on 
his  forehead  and  right  hand,  '  DECEIT,  DECEIT  ! '  " 

Imagine  words,  of  which  these  are  the  fewest  possible 
specimens,  spoken  on  a  public  occasion,  from  a  pulpit  filled 
with  ministers,  to  an  audience  composed  in  considerable 
degree  of  clerical  people  !  That  it  was  listened  to  as  quietly 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  157 

as  it  was,  that  only  one  man  went  out,  that  the  other  par 
ticipants  in  the  exercises  made  no  immediate  protest,  is 
the  wonder.  But,  if  the  shock  was  not  felt  instantaneously, 
it  was  felt  soon. 

The  opinions  themselves  advanced  by  the  preacher  were 
not  new  :  many  half  entertained  them  ;  more  were  dally 
ing  with  them  in  an  amateur  way ;  a  few  held  them  in  their 
studies  as  literary  speculations,  but  breathed  no  whisper  of 
them  out  of  doors.  These  were  the  first  to  take  alarm.  As 
birds  who  have  been  sailing  pleasantly  before  the  gentle 
wind  hurry  to  covert  when  the  air  becomes  agitated  and 
the  black  storm  comes  up,  so  these  excursionists  crowded 
back  into  the  shelter  of  the  walled  town  when  they  saw 
the  dust- cloud  on  the  road  before  them.  The  most  for 
ward  made  most  speed  to  retrace  their  steps.  One  gentle 
man,  a  doctor  of  divinity,  but  a  man  of  letters  rather  than  a 
theologian,  a  radical  in  literature,  but  a  conservative  in  senti 
ment  and  usage,  who  once  had  said  to  him,  that  if  Strauss 
had  written  a  small  book,  in  a  single  volume,  in  a  popular 
style,  he  would  have  about  done  the  thing  for  historical 
Christianity ;  who  on  another  occasion,  when  asked  how 
he  reconciled  the  conflicting  accounts  in  the  four  Gospels, 
replied,  "  I  don't  try  to  reconcile  them ;  you  can't  tell 
where  fact  begins  or  fiction  ends,  nor  whether  there  is  any 
fact  at  all  at  the  bottom  ; "  who  on  yet  another  occasion, 
when  asked  what  he  thought  of  Cousin's  "Atheism," 
answered,  "  I  don't  know  whether  he  believes  in  a  God  or 
not ;  but  I  know  that  he  has  the  ethical  and  religious 
spirit  of  Christianity,  and  is  a  Christian ; "  who  yet  once 
more,  when  challenged  on  his  belief  in  the  prophecies  of 
the  Old  Testament,  responded,  that  he  did  believe  them 
true  prophecies,  but  only  as  every  imperfect  thing  is  a  true 
prophecy  of  the  perfect, — this  gentleman,  when  the  ques 
tion  was  no  longer  one  of  literature,  but  one  of  custom 
and  institution  and  social  tranquillity,  left  the  ranks  of  the 
pioneers,  and  fell  back  upon  the  old  guard.  He  had  gone 
14 


158  THEODORE  PARKER. 

out  for  a  pleasant  reconnoitre :  he  was  not  prepared  for 
battle.  The  less  distinguished  felt  quite  at  liberty  to  retire 
with  the  leaders,  and  fully  justified  in  throwing  an  occa 
sional  stone  from  behind  the  breastwork.  Man  after  man 
on  whom  Parker  had  reckoned  for  countenance  was  found 
wanting  in  the  hour  of  need. 

Boston  rang  with  the  controversy.  The  daily  press 
took  it  up  with  such  intelligence  as  it  possessed.  Here, 
before  me,  are  clippings  from  the  newspapers,  preserved 
by  Mr.  Parker  himself,  who  detected  the  hand  of  friend 
or  enemy  in  the  fluttering  columns.  "  The  Daily  Adver 
tiser  "  and  "  Evening  Transcript "  had  communications 
from  instructed  pens,  handling  the  matter  with  thoughtful 
discrimination.  "  The  New- York  Herald,"  then  as  now, 
trusting  in  the  plenitude  of  its  theological  wisdom,  passed 
final  verdict  on  the  merits  of  the  controversy,  and  predicted 
the  result.  The  religious  papers,  being  more  nearly  con 
cerned,  — the  "  liberal "  papers  more  especially,  —  did  their 
best,  probably,  to  be  charitable  ;  but  the  proverbial  bitter 
ness  of  family  quarrels  found  constant  illustration  in  their 
issues :  it  was  not  possible  to  repress  the  rancor  engen 
dered  by  disappointment,  mortification,  chagrin,  wounded 
partisanship,  and  broken  associations.  The  writers  seemed 
all  to  use  steel  pens.  The  words  "  infidel,"  "  scorner," 
"  blasphemer,"  were  freely  bandied  about.  Parker's  name 
was  rarely  spoken,  except  in  connection  with  Voltaire, 
Paine,  and  other  high  priests  of  unbelief.  His  piety  was 
called  sentimentalism ;  his  professions  of  faith,  hypocriti 
cal;  his  learning,  second-rate;  his  genius,  apparent  only 
in  his  rhetoric.  Friendly  writers  were  hardly  more  than 
apologetic :  hostile  writers  alone  forbore  to  practise  the 
virtue  of  moderation. 

The  effect  of  the  sermon  on  the  preacher's  ecclesiastical 
relations  was  felt  instantly.  One  after  another  of  the 
"brethren"  cancelled  exchanges  that  had  been  agreed 
on,  making  the  usual  transparent  excuses  for  postpone- 


THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  159 

ment.  In  July,  the  list  had  shrunk  to  twelve  names ;  and 
of  those  twelve,  only  a  portion  stood  faithful.  The  press 
ure  that  was  brought  to  bear,  both  on  the  part  of  clergy 
and  laity,  against  those  who  exchanged  pulpits  with  the 
heretic,  was  greater  than  any  but  truly  honest  men  could 
stand.  Many  were  the  revolvings  and  resolvings  in  minis 
terial  breasts.  "  Is  he  willing  to  exchange  with  Mr. 
Parker  ? "  "  Would  he,  if  asked,  exchange  with  Mr.  Par 
ker  ? "  were  questions  raised  in  church-committees  when 
discussing  a  candidate.  "  What  shall  I  do  if  Parker  ap 
plies  for  an  exchange  ? "  was  the  question  which  the  young 
minister  anxiously  put  to  himself.  To  exchange  pulpits 
with  Parker  became  the  test  of  faith.  The  minister  of  a 
secluded  parish  where  Parker's  face  was  unknown  might 
quietly  treat  his  people  to  a  sermon  from  an  eloquent 
stranger  whom  they  never  suspected  to  be  the  arch-heretic  ; 
but,  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  these  clandestine  indulgences 
were  impossible.  A  proposition  to  exchange  from  Theo 
dore  Parker  made  the  heart  sink,  as  the  water  in  wells 
sinks  at  the  coming  of  the  earthquake.  "  Will  your  husband 
exchange  with  me  next  Sunday  ? "  asked  the  proscribed  man 
of  the  wife  of  one  of  his  oldest  friends.  "  I  know  he  would 
with  pleasure,  but  am  quite  confident  that  he  has  already 
made  an  engagement."  —  "  Ought  I  to  exchange  with  you  ? " 
said  to  him  one  of  his  neighbors,  a  man  of  unusual  popular 
ity  and  courage.  "  You  know  best,"  answered  Parker.  "  But 
some  of  my  people  will  be  offended  if  I  do."  —  "  Very  well," 
rejoins  Parker;  "let  it  go,  then:  I  don't  press  the  matter." 
—  "  But  what  would  you  do  in  my  case  ? "  said  the  ponder 
ing  brother.  Parker  answered,  "  I  should  think  freedom 
of  thought  and  speech  worth  defending  at  all  risks,  and 
should  make  a  matter  of  duty  of  the  business ;  or,  if  I 
thought  it  of  no  value,  I  should  say  so."  The  argument 
was  not  conclusive.  The  exchange  was  not  effected.  The 
brother  shared  the  prevailing  opinion  that  the  pulpit  was 
not  the  place  to  vindicate  freedom  of  thought  and  speech. 


160  THEODORE  PARKER. 

When  Convers  Francis  was  deliberating  whether  or  no  to 
accept  the  theological  professorship  at  Cambridge,  the 
authorities  there  advised  him,  "  under  the  circumstances," 
to  cancel  an  existing  engagement  to  exchange  with  Mr. 
Parker  in  Watertown.  One  strong  and  noble  man  in  Bos 
ton,  who  disagreed  heartily  with  Parker's  theological  opin 
ions,  spoke  of  them  in  print  as  "  shallow  naturalism," 
described  Parker  as  "  the  expounder  of  negative  transcen 
dentalism,"  in  contrast  with  Mr.  Emerson,  who  represented 
positive  transcendentalism,  and  pronounced  his  system  at 
once  "  ignorant  and  presumptuous,"  did,  later,  when  the 
controversy  was  at  its  fiercest,  announce  to  his  congrega 
tion  his  intention  to  exchange  with  Mr.  Parker,  on  the 
ground  that  difference  of  opinion  did  not  justify  breach  of 
fellowship;  that  Parker  was  a  Christian  man  and  a 
devout  minister ;  and  that  intellectual  liberty  was  too  pre 
cious  to  be  sacrificed  to  a  point  of  criticism.  The  an 
nouncement  caused  a  flutter  ;  the  deed  caused  more  ;  but 
the  minister's  avowal  of  motives  partially  disarmed  conse 
quences. 

There  were  curious  scenes  at  the  meetings  of  the  Bos 
ton  Ministerial  Association.  The  vexed  question  was  the 
exchange  with  Parker.  How  far  ought  difference  of  opin 
ion  to  prevent  ministerial  exchanges  ?  That  question  were 
easily  answered  if  taken  alone ;  for  Parker  had  himself 
carefully  confined  the  difference  of  opinion  to  matters  of 
learning  and  criticism.  The  man  who  said  that  every 
member  of  the  Association,  while  he  continued  to  be  a 
member,  had  a  right  to  claim  an  exchange  from  any  and 
every  other  on  the  ground  of  fellowship,  touched  that 
point  fairly  ;  but  the  same  man,  a  college-mate  of  Parker's 
too,  confessed  the  secondary  importance  of  the  point  by 
admitting  that  he  would  not  exchange  if  asked,  because 
influential  men  in  his  congregation  would  be  offended.  It 
was  suggested,  that,  if  any  member  of  the  Association  held 
views  distasteful  to  the  majority,  he  should  withdraw  :  no 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  161 

one  recommended  that  such  a  one  be  expelled.  One 
frankly  advised  that  the  Association  be  broken  up.  The 
discussion  was  made  ridiculous  by  a  remark  from  the  clerical 
wit  of  the  body,  that,  if  a  minister  had  a  comical  twist  in 
the  face,  that  was  reason  enough  for  declining  an  exchange 
with  him.  There  were  but  two  or  three  men  —  there  were 
two  or  three  —  who  never  failed  to  bear  their  testimony  to 
the  Christian  character  and  essential  Christian  faith  of 
Parker.  Their  names  cannot  be  mentioned ;  for  the  hu 
mility  that  was  ever  their  characteristic  would  be  hurt 
thereby.  They  were  always  present  when  courage  was 
demanded,  but  absent  when  praise  was  bestowed.  So  let 
it  be  now. 

The  story  of  sectarian  diplomacy  is  not  pleasant ;  but  it 
must  be  told,  that  the  true  position  of  things  may  be 
understood. 

The  journal,  under  date  of  Jan.  23,  1843,  gives  a  full 
account  ("  to  be  printed  in  1899,  as  a  memorial  of  the 
nineteenth  century ")  of  a  meeting  of  the  Association  at 
which  Mr.  Parker  was  present  by  particular  request,  for 
the  purpose  of  conference  on  matters  of  ecclesiastical 
concern.  To  print  it  as  it  stands  would  be  unprofitable  and 
in  bad  taste :  the  pith  of  it  is  given  here  in  illustration  of 
the  ecclesiastical  spirit  of  thirty  years  ago.  The  attend 
ance  was  large,  with  a  fair  representation  of  both  sides. 
After  an  early  tea,  the  embarrassing  business  began  with 
the  customary  disclaimers  and  apologies,  and  gracious 
devices  for  smoothing  the  way.  Then  the  chairman,  a 
man  of  culture  and  a  gentleman,  opened  the  debate 
by  charging  that  Mr.  Parker's  book  was,  first,  "vehe 
mently  deistical,"  using  the  word  in  the  worst  sense ; 
and,  second,  subversive  of  Christianity  as  a  particular 
religion. 

The  book  referred  to  was  the  "  Discourse  of  Matters 
pertaining  to  Religion,"  published  in  the  spring  of  1842. 
It  contained  the  substance  of  five  lectures  delivered  ir 
14* 


1 62  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Boston  during  the  previous  autumn.  In  preparing  them 
for  the  book  form,  the  author  considerably  enlarged  them, 
adding  at  the  same  time  an  over-abundance  of  notes, 
chiefly  of  reference,  but  preserving  the  brilliant,  popu 
lar  style  of  the  chapters.  The  volume  has  passed  through 
four  editions,  is  probably  the  best  known  of  Mr.  Parker's 
writings,  and  has  exerted  a  wide  and  excellent  influence. 
From  time  to  time,  instances  of  its  converting  power  come 
up.  A  Western  judge  put  it  one  Sunday  into  the  hands 
of  an  idle,  thoughtless  youth,  who  was  looking  about  for 
a  pleasant  Sunday  time-killer.  He  took  it  reluctantly,  — 
never,  he  said,  having  been  able  to  read  a  religious  book 
in  his  life,  — and  went  with  it  to  his  room.  By  evening  he 
had  read  it  half  through,  and  wished  to  keep  it  longer.  A 
religious  book  like  that  he  had  never  seen.  If  that  was 
religion,  he  liked  it.  Some  days  after,  the  young  man 
came  to  the  judge,  and  said,  "Will  you  sell  me  that  book? 
I  want  to  own  it."  —  "  No,"  said  the  judge:  "I  won't  sell 
it  to  you  ;  but  I  will  give  it  to  you."  And  the  youth  went 
off  with  the  book,  grateful.  Years  went  by.  The  young 
man  became  prominent  as  a  politician.  A  benevolent 
institution  of  the  State  needing  patronage,  which  his 
friends  were  indisposed  to  give,  he  stood  up  and  said, 
"  You  ought  to  give  it.  The  institution  is  worthy  of  all 
assistance.  I  have  been  there,  and  examined  it ;  and,  if 
there  are  any  Christian  people  in  the  world,  the  managers 
of  that  institution  are  Christians."  Through  his  influence 
the  aid  was  obtained.  About  the  same  time,  his  old  friend 
the  judge  met  him,  and  asked  how  he  got  on  with  his  re 
ligious  studies.  "  Oh,  bravely !  I  have  that  book  now  :  it 
has  been  lent  ever  so  many  times,  and  read  till  it  was 
read  almost  to  pieces.  I  have  had  it  strongly  bound  in 
leather  to  preserve  it."  In  the  preface  to  the  first  edition, 
the  author  wrote,  "  It  is  the  design  of  this  work  to  recall 
men  from  the  transient  shows  of  time  to  the  permanent 
substance  of  religion ;  from  a  worship  of  creeds  and 


THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  163 

empty  belief  to  a  worship  in  spirit  and  in  life.  If  it  sat 
isfy  the  doubting  soul,  and  help  the  serious  inquirer  to  true 
views  of  God,  man,  the  relation  between  them,  and  the 
duties  which  come  of  that  relation ;  if  it  make  religion 
appear  more  congenial  and  attractive,  and  a  divine  life 
more  beautiful  and  sweet,  than  heretofore, — my  end  is 
answered.  I  have  not  sought  to  pull  down,  but  to  build 
up  ;  to  remove  the  rubbish  of  human  inventions  from  the 
fair  temple  of  divine  truth,  that  men  may  enter  its  shin 
ing  gates,  and  be  blessed  now  and  forever."  The  lan 
guage  of  the  preface  found  comment  in  the  incident  above 
narrated. 

This  was  the  book  that  the  chairman  at  the  meeting  of 
the  Boston  Association  pronounced  "  vehemently  deisti- 
cal,"  and  "  subversive  of  Christianity  as  a  particular  re 
ligion."  The  preface  had  then  been  written.  It  is  fair  to 
add,  that  the  incident  just  narrated  had  not  occurred. 
But  this  is  a  digression.  We  must  return  to  the  meeting, 
where  Mr.  Parker  is  under  examination.  The  chairman 
having  opened  the  discussion,  the  next  who  took  up  the 
word,  after  expressing  agreement  with  the  chairman  in 
regard  to  the  character  of  the  book,  submitted  that  they 
were  not  met  for  theological  discussion,  and  tried  to  con 
fine  attention  to  matters  personally  at  issue  between  Mr. 
Parker  and  the  Association  to  which  he  still  belonged. 
This  was  the  important  thing.  Mr.  Parker's  opinion  con 
cerned  them  no  more  than  another  man's,  except  as  he 
was  connected  with  an  ecclesiastical  body  which  they 
helped  compose,  and  for  the  character  of  which  they 
were  responsible.  Mr.  Parker  had  been  guilty  of  conduct 
unbecoming  a  member  of  the  body,  inasmuch  as  he  had 
said  and  printed  things  reflecting  on  the  conduct  of  the 
brethren. 

Against  this  accusation  Mr.  Parker  defended  himself  by 
protesting  that  he  had  never  felt  an  ill-natured  emotion, 
nor  uttered  an  ill-natured  word  respecting  them,  on  account 


164  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  their  withholden  fellowship ;  that  he  put  his  own  inter 
pretation  on  events  as  the  rest  did,  but  had  never  wittingly 
disregarded  truth,  or  violated  propriety.  Touching  the 
doctrines  of  his  book,  he  did  not  see  how  they  could  fairly 
be  called  "  deistical ; "  for  deists,  if  he  knew  any  thing 
about  them,  denied  the  possibility  of  direct  inspiration 
from  God ;  whereas  he  not  only  admitted  the  possibility 
of  such  inspiration,  but  claimed  inspiration  for  all  men  in 
proportion  to  their  quantity  of  being  and  the  amount  of 
their  spiritual  obedience.  If  he  was  a  deist,  he  made  a 
new  class,  whereof  he  was  the  sole  constituent  member, 
and  which  all  others  excluded.  The  other  assertion,  that 
his  book  was  subversive  of  Christianity,  surprised  him  still 
more ;  for  he  had  supposed  it  to  be  full  of  most  essential 
Christianity.  Christianity  was  one  of  three  things :  first, 
it  was  less  than  absolute  religion ;  or,  second,  it  was  equal 
to  absolute  religion ;  or,  third,  it  was  absolute  religion  and 
something  more.  The  first  none  of  them  would  admit ; 
the  second  he  maintained ;  the  third  expressed  their 
belief.  If,  therefore,  they  would  specify  what  peculiarity 
Christianity  added  to  absolute  religion,  would  "  point  out 
the  precise  quiddity "  that  made  absolute  religion  to  be 
Christianity,  they  would  do  a  great  service  to  the  unlearned. 
Would  the  chairman  be  good  enough  to  instruct  him  ? 
That  there  was  no  curl  of  the  lip,  or  gleam  of  deadly  im 
port  from  the  steel-gray  eyes  behind  the  spectacles,  at  this 
moment,  the  reader  may  believe  if  he  will.  The  chair 
man  reminded  the  questioner  that  catechising  was  not  in 
order. 

Mr.  Parker's  personal  affair  with  the  Association  was 
then  taken  up.  In  "The  Dial"  of  October,  1842,  he  had 
published  a  remarkably  plain-spoken,  not  to  say  caustic 
article,  reviewing  the  proceedings  of  an  ecclesiastical 
council  that  was  called  to  adjust  the  relations  between  the 
Hollis-street  Society  and  the  Rev.  John  Pierpont,  its  pas 
tor,  accused  of  conduct  unbecoming  a  clergyman  in  per- 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  165 

sistently  remaining  and  preaching  on  topics  exceedingly 
distasteful  to  an  influential  portion  of  his  people,  more 
especially  the  vice,  crime,  and  sin  of  manufacturing,  selling, 
and  promoting  the  consumption  of  intoxicating  liquors. 
In  his  review,  Mr.  Parker  had  spoken  of  the  "  result  in 
council "  as  a  "  Jesuitical  -document,"  thus  reflecting  on 
those  who  drew  it  up.  The  members  of  that  council  were 
prominent  members  of  the  Association.  The  charge  was 
produced  at  length  with  much  vehemence  of  manner. 
Mr.  Parker  had  held  up  the  council  to  the  scorn  and  de 
rision  of  mankind ;  had  represented  the  members  of  it  as 
a  set  of  hypocrites  and  double-dealing  knaves ;  had  done 
his  best  to  weaken  their  influence  and  ruin  their  character  ; 
with  much  more  of  the  same  sort :  to  all  which  the  ac 
cused  replied,  that  what  he  had  written  he  had  written, 
and  for  that  was  answerable  ;  that  for  other  men's  inter 
pretations  of  what  he  had  written  he  was  not  answerable  j 
what  they  charged  he  was  at  liberty  to  disclaim.  To  an 
accusation,  that,  in  a  sermon  on  the  "  Pharisees,"  he  had 
meant  to  "  take  off  "  the  Association,  he  replied,  that,  as 
the  sermon  was  written  a  whole  year  before  any  trouble 
began,  such  an  intention  could  not  be  imputed.  So  the 
debate  went  on  from  one  point  to  another,  to  nobody's 
satisfaction. 

The  talk  came  back  to  the  book  and  its  doctrines. 
Mr.  Parker  asks  for  the  peculiarity  of  Christianity  as  a 
religion.  "  It  consists  in  a  recognition  of  the  authority 
of  Christ  as  authenticated  by  miracles."  Mr.  Parker  re 
plied,  that,  admitting  the  miracles  (for  argument's  sake), 
he  did  not  see  how  they  made  to  be  true  or  binding  what 
was  not  so  already,  or  how  they  increased  the  obligation 
to  be  true  and  dutiful.  For  his  part,  he  had  no  philo 
sophical  objection  to  miracles  (in  his  definition  of  them), 
but  only  demanded  more  evidence  for  them  than  for 
common  events.  He  was  by  no  means  certain  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  Gospels ;  and,  if  he  were,  could  not 


166  THEODORE  PARKER. 

take  what  was  there  recorded  as  literally  true.  "We 
have  heard  enough ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  examiners. 
"  It  is  plain  that  Mr.  Parker  is  no  Christian  ;  for  Chris 
tianity  is  a  supernatural  and  miraculous  revelation."  — 
"  That  may  be,"  replied  the  defendant ;  "  but  that  is  the 
point  to  be  proved.  Nobody  accuses  me  of  preaching 
less  than  absolute  morality  and  religion.  If  they  can 
exist  without  Christianity,  what  is  the  use  of  Chris 
tianity  ?  "  —  "  But  plainly  Mr.  Parker  is  no  Christian.  We 
cannot  hold  ministerial  intercourse  with  a  man  who  de 
nies  the  miracles."  —  "Ah ! "  said  Mr.  Parker,  "  that  is  not 
the  trouble  :  that  is  but  a  matter  of  theological  opinion, 
at  the  best.  The  difference  began  before  the  Hollis- 
street  Council,  before  'The  Discourse  of  Religion:'  it 
dates  back  to  the  South-Boston  sermon.  I  have  some 
curious  letters  on  that  theme  which  one  day  may  be  pub 
lished.  I  was  at  first  surprised  at  the  effect  that  sermon 
had  on  the  Unitarian  ministers.  I  looked  round  to  see 
who  would  stand  by  me  in  the  pulpit ;  and,  in  general,  I 
have  not  been  disappointed.  In  two  persons  I  have  been 
disappointed,  —  grievously  disappointed." 

Chandler  Robbins,  a  sturdy  conservative,  but  a  resolute 
peacemaker,  and  the  kindest  of  men,  hereupon  inter 
posed,  and  said,  "  Since  Mr.  Parker  finds  the  feeling 
against  him  so  general,  /  think  it  is  his  duty  to  withdraw 
from  the  Association"  This  touched  the  practical  point. 
Approving  voices  joined  in.  Mr.  Parker  hurt  their  use 
fulness,  compromised  their  position,  &c. :  he  should  with 
draw  at  once.  But  this  Mr.  Parker  had  no  mind  to  do. 
They  had  put  him  on  his  mettle,  had  waked  the  reformer 
in  him,  and  must  allay  the  spirit  as  they  could.  For  his 
own  part,  he  assured  them,  were  he  alone  personally  con 
cerned,  he  would  retire  with  pleasure  ;  but  a  matter  of 
much  graver  concern,  even  the  right  of  free  inquiry,  was 
at  stake.  His  retirement  would  be  taken  as  a  concession 
from  him,  and  would  be  cited  as  a  triumph  for  them :  and, 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  167 

in  that  view  of  the  case,  his  duty  was  to  stay ;  and  stay 
he  would  so  long  as  the  world  lasted. 

Here  was  a  new  dilemma.  The  chairman  said,  "  Were 
this  a  body  of  free  inquirers,  and  not  an  association  of 
Christian  brethren,  I  should  withdraw  myself."  —  "  Why, 
then,  ask  me  to  withdraw  ?  "  said  Parker.  "  Dr.  Freeman 
was  for  many  years  a  member  of  the  Association,  dis 
agreeing  with  the  rest  so  much  in  opinion,  that  they  never 
exchanged  with  him."  —  "  The  case  is  not  in  point,"  was  the 
rejoinder  :  "  Dr.  Freeman  was  not  alone  in  being  a  Unita 
rian  among  Trinitarians."  —  "  Indeed  !  Did  they  say  so  ?  " 
—  "  Besides,  the  difference  between  Trinitarians  and  Uni 
tarians  is  a  difference  within  Christianity :  the  difference 
between  the  Association  and  Mr.  Parker  is  a  difference  be 
tween  Christianity  and  no  Christianity."  —  "But  that  is  the 
very  point  in  question.  What  is  Christianity  ?  and  what  is 
it  that  puts  Mr.  Parker  outside  of  it?"  —  "We  do  not  deny 
that  you  are  a  Christian  man,  but  only  that  your  book  is 
a  Christian  book."  —  "  But  the  man  belongs  to  the  Associa 
tion,  and  not  the  book  ;  and,  besides,  what  is  it  that  makes 
the  book  unchristian?  "  —  "But,  Mr.  Parker,  were  you  not 
a  member  of  the  Association,  you  certainly  would  not, 
with  your  known  opinions,  be  admitted.  Now,  either  you 
have  changed  your  opinions  since  you  came  in,  or  you 
concealed  them  when  you  entered.  Whichever  be  the 
case,  you  should  withdraw."  —  "When  I  entered,  my  opin 
ions  were  not  asked,  nor  was  I  required  to  promise  always 
to  retain  such  as  I  held.  If  I  do  you  an  injury,  you  have 
the  remedy  in  your  own  hands,  and  can  pass  a  vote  of  ex 
pulsion  at  any  time.  It  is  a  new  thing  to  make  miracles 
the  Unitarian  shibboleth  of  Christianity.  A  few  years 
ago,  it  was  said  in  the  Association  that  '  Christianity  once 
rested  on  two  great  pillars,  —  Jachin  and  Boaz,  prophe 
cy  and  miracles.  Dr.  Noyes  knocked  down  Jachin  ;  and 
George  Ripley,  Boaz  :  yet  Christianity  stood.'  If  I  remem 
ber  right,  it  was  the  chairman  who  said  that."  —  "  True," 


1 68  THEODORE  PARKER. 

said  the  chairman.  "I  do  recollect  something  about 
Jachin  and  Boaz  :  but  I  did  not  say  I  was  one  of  them 
who  said  Christianity  did  not  rest  on  the  two  ;  still  less 
did  I  say  that  George  Ripley  had  knocked  the  miracles 
down." 

There  was  more  talk  to  the  same  effect.  At  length 
Bartol  spoke  warmly  in  praise  of  Parker's  sincerity ;  and 
Gannett,  in  his  glowing,  earnest  .way,  responded ;  and 
Chandler  Robbins  chimed  heartily  in.  This  was  too 
much  for  the  tender-hearted  iconoclast.  He  burst  into 
tears,  shook  hands  with  R.  C.  Waterston,  the  host,  and 
went  out.  In  the  entry  he  met  the  chairman,  who  had 
left  the  room  a  minute  before.  The  kind,  courteous  gen 
tleman,  whose  professional  animosities,  however  vehement, 
did  not  strike  deep,  shook  him  cordially  by  the  hand, 
and  hoped  to  have  a  visit  from  him  soon.  So  the  matter 
ended.  The  sharp  arrows  fell  harmless  to  the  ground  \ 
the  flushed  faces  became  placid ;  the  angry  looks  died 
away.  Two  days  after  the  meeting,  Mr.  Parker  received 
the  following  letter,  which  shows  how  one  good  man 
felt:  — 

From  Chandler  Robbins. 

WEDNESDAY,  Jan.  25,  1843. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  From  the  moment  when  you  left  the 
secretary  of  the  Association  on  Monday  evening,  my  heart  has 
been  yearning  to  unbosom  itself  to  you.  I  felt  most  deeply  the 
delicacy  and  the  hard  trial  of  your  situation,  and  am  constrained 
to  say  that  you  sustained  yourself  nobly.  It  would  have  been 
unjust  to  you  to  have  been  less  frank  than  we  were  ;  and  yet  I 
fear  that  my  frankness  seemed  ungenerous  and  unfriendly.  I 
knew  not  what  I  ought  to  say  in  my  struggle  between  the  love 
I  do  most  truly  bear  towards  you,  and  the  desire  that  the  whole 
truth  of  your  position  relative  to  the  Association  should  be 
clearly  understood,  and  that  you  should  be  fully  informed  con 
cerning  all  the  matters  which  the  Association  had  in  considera 
tion  respecting  you  and  itself.  I  grieved  that  you  left  just  as  I 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  169 

had  begun  to  give  a  declaration  of  my  individual  opinions  and 
sentiments  ;  for  I  feared  that  I  had  been  the  cause  of  inflicting 
a  wound,  which  my  tongue  should  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth  before  it  should  intentionally  give.  Yet,  after  you  had 
gone,  I  could  more  freely  pour  out  those  friendly  and  most 
affectionate  sentiments,  the  flow  of  which  would  have  been 
narrowed  and  restricted  by  your  presence.  And  this  I  did,  and 
felt  better  for  having  made  a  "  clean  breast :  "  indeed,  I  could 
not  have  gone  to  my  rest  that  night  if  I  had  not.  I  am  sorry, 
my  dear  friend,  that  we  differ  so  much  in  our  opinions  on  theo 
logical  questions.  I  am  sorry  that  a  brother  whose  feelings  and 
whose  motives  I  so  much  esteem  and  love  should  feel  under  the 
necessity  of  publishing  doctrines,  that,  in  my  opinion,  are  incon 
sistent  with  faith  in  Christianity  as  a  special  revelation,  and  in 
Christ  as  "the  anointed  of  God,"  —  doctrines  whose  avowal 
necessarily  prevents  an  interchange  of  pulpits  between  us.  But 
this  is  all  I  have  against  you.  Against  you  ?  no,  between  us,  I 
mean,  as  a  bar.  All  the  other  charges  (those  relating  to  the 
Hollis-street  Council  and  the  rest),  however  grave  they  may  be 
held  by  others,  do  not  weigh  a  feather's  weight  with  me.  I 
don't  believe  that  you  have  said  aught  in  malice  against  your 
professional  brethren  ;  and,  when  I  hear  any  of  these  attempting 
to  make  out  a  case  against  you  on  such  grounds,  I  have  not  the 
least  sympathy  with  them. 

It  may  be,  my  friend,  that  you  are  in  advance  of  us  all  in 
theological  knowledge,  and  nearer  to  the  clear  mount  of  truth  ; 
and  that  the  interval  that  separates  us  in  this  journey  of  immor 
tality  is  the  true  gulf  between  us.  It  may  be  that  your  soul  is 
purer  and  more  virtuous  than  ours,  and  that  this  moral  superi 
ority  lifts  you  out  of  the  reach  of  our  sympathy,  and  gives  you 
a  vision  of  the  spiritual  world  which  our  medium  of  view  is  too 
dark  to  allow  us  to  discern.  Or,  my  brother,  it  may  be  that 
you  have  speculated  too  boldly ;  that  an  intensely  active  intellect 
and  much  learning  have  carried  you  beyond  the  safe  founda 
tions  of  the  eternal  Word ;  and  that  you  have  as  far  to  return,  as 
we  to  advance,  before  we  can  come  to  stand  together. on  the 
Rock  of  ages.  There  are  questions  which  abide  the  solution 
of  the  all-exposing  hours  and  the  judgment  of  the  Spirit  of 
light.  I  do  not  wish  to  attempt  to  answer  them.  I  only  wish 
to  regard  you  without  "  a  beam  in  my  own  eye,"  while  both  of 
15 


170  THEODORE  PARKER. 

us  shall  be  seeking  humbly  yet  earnestly  after  "  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Jesus."  I  hope  that  both  may  have  more  and  more  "  of 
the  spirit  of  Christ ; "  that,  like  him,  we  may  be  true  children 
of  the  Father,  and  true  brothers  of  mankind. 

I  cannot  satisfy  myself  with  this  expression  of  my  state  of 
feeling  towards  you,  being  a  sad  bungler  in  the  use  of  set  forms 
of  speech.  I  wish  my  breast  had  a  window :  I  would  go  to 
you  and  sit  in  silence  whilst  you  looked  into  it,  if  you  would 
take  the  trouble  to  survey  all  its  images  which  are  associated  in 
any  manner  with  you. 

Believe  me  your  sincere  friend, 

CHANDLER  ROBBINS. 

To  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins^  Boston. 

PLYMOUTH,  Sunday  Morning,  Jan.  27,  1843. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  thank  you  truly  for  your  kind  note 
of  Thursday  last ;  thank  you  for  your  sympathy  ;  thank  you,  too, 
for  the  caution  you  give  me.  I  can  live  with  no  sympathy  but 
that  of  the  Infinite,  and  his  still  small  voice  saying,  "  Well 
done  !  "  but  when  sympathy,  human  sympathy,  comes,  it  is 
truly  welcome.  You  mistake  a  little  the  cause  of  my  tears  the 
other  night.  It  was  not  a  hard  thing  said  by  yourself  or  others. 
All  might  have  said  such  as  long  as  they  liked :  I  would  not 
have  winked  at  that.  It  was  the  kind  things  said  by  Bartol  and 
Gannett,  and  what  I  knew  by  your  face  you  were  about  to  say : 
it  was  this  that  made  me  weep.  I  could  meet  argument  with 
argument  (in  a  place  where  it  is  in  order  to  discuss  "  the  sub 
jects  "  of  a  theological  book  which  is  talked  of),  blow  with  blow, 
ill  nature  with  good  nature,  all  night  long  ;  but  the  moment  a  man 
takes  my  part,  and  says  a  word  of  sympathy,  that  moment  I 
should  become  a  woman,  and  no  man.  If  Pierpont  had  been 
present,  I  should  have  asked  him,  at  the  beginning,  to  say  no 
word  of  defence  of  me,  but  as  many  of  offence  as  he  liked.  I 
felt  afraid,  at  first,  that  a  kind  thing  might  be  said  earlier  in  the 
evening,  and  am  grateful  to  the  "  brethren  "  that  they  said  none 
such  till  late.  But  to  leave  this  painful  theme. 

I  knew  always  the  risks  that  I  run  in  saying  what  was  hos 
tile  to  the  popular  theology.  I  have  not  forgotten  George  Fox, 
nor  Priestley  ;  no,  nor  yet  Abelard,  nor  St.  Paul.  Don't  think 
I  compare  myself  with  these  noble  men,  except  in  this,  —  that 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  171 

each  of  them  was  called  on  to  stand  alone  ;  and  so  arn  I.  I 
know  what  Paul  meant  when  he  said,  "  At  my  first  answer  no 
man  stood  with  me :  "  but  I  know  also  what  is  meant  when  a 
greater  than  Paul  said,  "  Yet  I  am  not  alone  ;  for  the  Father  is 
with  me."  If  my  life  ends  to-morrow,  I  can  say,  — 

"  I  have  the  richest,  best,  of  consolations,  — 
The  thought  that  I  have  given, 
To  serve  the  cause  of  Heaven, 
The  freshness  of  my  early  inspirations." 

I  care  not  what  the  result  is  to  me  personally :  I  am  equal  to 
either  fate,  and  ask  only  a  chance  to  do  my  duty.  No  doubt 
my  life  is  to  be  outwardly  a  life  of  gloom,  and  separation  from 
old  associates  (I  will  not  say  friends).  I  know  men  will  view 
me  with  suspicion,  and  ministers  with  hatred :  that  is  not 
my  concern.  Inwardly,  my  life  is  and  must  be  one  of  pro 
found  peace,  of  satisfaction  and  comfort  that  all  words  of  mine 
are  powerless  to  present.  There  is  no  mortal  trouble  that  dis 
turbs  me  more  than  a  moment ;  no  disappointment  that  makes 
me  gloomy  or  sad  or  distrustful.  All  outward  evil  fails  off 
me  as  snow  from  my  cloak.  I  never  thought  of  being  so  happy 
in  this  life  as  I  have  been  these  two  years.  The  destructive 
part  of  the  work  I  feel  called  on  to  do  is  painful,  but  is  slight 
compared  with  the  main  work  of  building  up.  Don't  think  I 
am  nattered,  as  some  say,  by  seeing  many  come  to  listen. 
Nothing  makes  a  real  man  so  humble  as  to  stand  and  speak  to 
many  men.  The  thought  that  I  am  doing  what  I  know  to  be  my 
duty  is  rich  reward  to  me  :  I  know  of  none  so  great.  Besides 
that,  however,  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  have 
awakened  the  spirit  of  religion,  of  faith  in  God,  in  some  twenty 
or  twenty-five  men,  who,  before  that,  had  no  faith,  no  hope,  no 
religion.  This  alone,  and  the  expression  of  their  gratitude 
(made  by  word  of  mouth,  or  made  by  letters  or  by  a  friend), 
would  compensate  me  for  all  that  all  the  ministers  in  all  the 
world  could  say  against  me  or  do  against  me.  But  why  do  I 
speak  of  this  ?  Only  to  show  you  that  I  am  not  likely  to  be 
cast  down.  Some  of  my  relations,  two  or  three  hundred  years 
ago,  lost  their  heads  for  their  religion.  I  am  called  to  no  such 
trial,  and  can  well  bear  my  lighter  cross. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  say,  that  if  the  Association  think  I  com- 


172  THEODORE  PARKER. 

promise  them,  and  injure  them,  and  hurt  their  usefulness,  they 
have  the  remedy  in  their  own  hands,  and  in  one  minute  can  vote 
me  out  of  their  ranks.  At  that  I  will  never  complain ;  but,  so 
long  as  the  world  standeth,  I  will  not  withdraw  voluntarily  while 
I  consider  rights  of  conscience  at  issue.  I  think,  too,  that, 
when  I  shall  have  more  leisure  (as  I  shall  in  a  few  weeks),  I 
shall  attend  the  meetings  more  frequently  than  heretofore.  To 
withdraw  voluntarily  would  be  to  abandon  what  I  think  a  post 
of  duty. 

Excuse  this  long  letter,  and  believe  me 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

This  was  noble  on  both  sides,  and  generous.  But 
Theodore  Parker  knew  now  that  he  must  stand  alone  ; 
and  he  accepted  the  situation.  Alluding  to  the  bitter 
things  written  and  said,  he  records  in  the  journal,  "  All 
these  things  are  disagreeable  to  me ;  but  they  must  be. 
I  can  stand  alone.  I  know  the  stake  I  laid  down,  and 
am  not  unwilling  to  pay  the  forfeit.  I  doubt  not  I  shall  be 
forced  to  leave  the  pulpit  in  this  way :  the  clergy  will 
refuse  to  exchange  with  me.  I  shall  not  be  willing  to 
write  a  hundred  sermons  a  year  for  a  hundred  and  twenty 
people  (half  children) ;  so  shall  leave  it  for  something 
else.  I  shall  not  leave  the  calling  if  an  opportunity 
occurs,  never  the  deep  love  I  feel  for  it,  nor  ever  neglect 
an  opportunity  to  utter  my  word,  and. pray  with  men." 
To  a  friend  he  writes,  — 

"  I  feel  it  is  a  great  work  which  I  have  undertaken.  I 
know,  that,  so  far  as  the  ministers  are  concerned,  I  am 
alone, — ALL  ALONE.  But  I  have  no  ambition  to  gratify,  and 
so  neither  fear  the  disgrace,  nor  covet  the  applause,  they 
can  give  me.  If  I  can  speak  the  truth  plainly  to  honest 
and  earnest  men,  it  is  all  I  ask.  The  result  is  v/ith  the 
God  of  all ;  and  you  and  I  have  no  cause  to  fear.  I  have 
received  the  ready  sympathy  of  intelligent  and  religious 
laymen,  and  confess  that  it  makes  me  feel  strong." 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  173 

To  Dr.  Francis. 

FEB.  14,  1842. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  It  is  a  great  while  since  I  had  a  lettei 
from  you ;  and  I  confess  the  fault  is  my  own.  But  now,  as  I 
can  do  nothing  else,  and,  besides,  want  to  write  to  you,  I  will  do 
so.  It  is  not  often  I  have  an  hour  for  such  a  purpose  ;  since  to 
write  two  sermons  a  week,  and  spend  five  days  of  the  week  in 
other  matters,  and  get  no  sabbath  on  Sunday,  though  it  may  do 
well  with  stronger  heads,  yet  goes  hard  with  mine.  I  never 
cared  much  for  the  sympathy  of  other  men,  and  never  less  than 
now  ;  but,  once  in  a  great  while,  I  feel  it  is  not  altogether  pleas 
ant  to  stand  alone,  to  be  viewed  with  suspicion  and  hatred. 
Blessed  are  those  men  who  can  take  things  as  they  find  them, 
and  believe  as  the  mob  believes,  and  sail  in  the  wake  of  public 
opinion.  I  remember  you  said  a  year  ago,  "  He  that  defies  pub 
lic  opinion,  like  the  man  who  spits  in  the  wind,  spits  in  his  own 
face."  It  is  so.  Better  men  have  found  less  sympathy  than  I. 
I  do  not  care  a  rush  for  what  men  who  differ  from  me  do  or 
say j  but  it  has  grieved  me  a  little,  I  confess  it,  to  see  men  who 
think  as  I  do  of  the  historical  and  mythical  matter  connected 
with  Christianity,  who  yet  take  the  stand  some  of  them  take. 
It  is  like  opening  a  drawer  where  you  expect  to  find  money,  and 
discovering  that  the  GOLD  has  gone  ;  only  the  copper  is  left. 
This  has  been  my  fate  very  often.  I  put  my  finger  on  a  min 
ister,  and  "  he  ain't  there."  Somebody  said  the  ministers  were 
a  very  selfish  set :  I  fear  there  is  some  little  truth  about  it. 
Some  think,  and  even  say,  they  are  glad  at  what  has  been  done, 
and  glory  in  freedom  of  thought,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ;  but 

it  is  all  TALK,  TALK,  TALK. 

To  Dr.  Francis. 

JUNE  24,  1842. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  There  is  one  thing  of  some  conse 
quence  to  me,  —  though  of  little  to  you,  —  of  which  I  want  to  say 
a  word  or  two  (I  am  not  complaining  of  any  one,  nor  writing  a 
jeremiade  to  grieve  you).  The  experience  of  the  last  twelve 
months  shows  me  what  I  am  to  expect  for  the  next  twelve 
years.  I  have  no  fellowship  with  the  other  clergy  :  no  one  that 
helped  in  my  ordination  will  now  exchange  ministerial  courte 
sies  with  me.  Only  one  or  two  of  the  Boston  Association,  and 
15* 


i;4  THEODORE  PARKER. 

perhaps  one  or  two  out  of  it,  will  have  any  ministerial  inter 
course  with  me.  "  They  that  are  younger  than  I  have  me  in 
derision."  Well,  quorsum  hcec  spectant?  If  I  stay  at  Spring 
Street,  I  must  write  a  hundred  and  four  sermons  a  year  for 
about  a  hundred  and  four  people.  This  will  consume  most 
of  my  energies,  and  I  shall  be  in  substance  put  down,  —  a  bull 
whose  roarings  can't  be  stopped,  but  who  is  tied  up  in  the  cor 
ner  of  the  barn-cellar,  so  that  nobody  hears  him;  and  it  is  the 
same  as  if  he  did  not  roar,  or  as  if  he  were  muzzled.  Now, 
this  I  WILL  NOT  DO.  I  should  not  answer  the  purposes  of  life, 
but  only  execute  the  plans  of  my  enemies,  — of  the  enemies  of 
freedom  of  mankind.  I  must  confess  that  I  am  disappointed 
hi  the  ministers,  —  the  Unitarian  ministers  :  I  once  thought 
them  noble  ;  that  they  would  be  true  to  an  ideal  principle  of 
right  I  find  that  no  body  of  men  was  ever  more  completely 
sold  to  the  sense  of  expediency.  Stuff  them  with  good  din 
ners,  and  freedom,  theology,  religion,  may  go  to  the  Devil  for 
all  them.  I  believe  the  abolitionists  and  temperance-men  are 
half  right  when  they  say,  "  The  Church  is  a  humbug;  "  and  the 
other  half  of  the  right  is,  "  the  ministers  are  ditto"  Now,  free 
dom  of  thought  and  speech  are  either  worth  preserving,  or  they 
are  not  worth  preserving.  If  the  ministers  think  the  second  (as 
their  life  shows  they  do),  let  them  say  it  plainly  and  manfully, 
that  the  public  may  no  longer  look  to  those  clouds  without  rain  : 
if  they  think  the  first,  then  something  must  be  done. 

Now,  I  am  aot  going  to  sit  down  tamely,  and  be  driven  out 
of  my  position  by  the  opposition  of  some,  and  the  neglect  of 
others,  whose  conduct  shows  that  they  have  no  love  of  freedom 
except  for  themselves,  —  to  sail  with  the  popular  wind  and  tide. 
I  shall  do  this  when  obliged  to  desert  the  pulpit  because  a  free 
voice  and  a  free  heart  cannot  be  in  "  that  bad  eminence."  I 
mean  to  live  at  Spring  Street,  perhaps  with  Ripley.  I  will 
study  seven  or  eight  months  of  the  year ;  and,  four  or  five 
months,  I  will  go  about  and  preach  and  lecture  in  the  city 
and  glen,  by  the  road-side  and  field-side,  and  wherever  men 
and  women  may  be  found.  I  will  go  eastward  and  westward,  and 
northward  and  southward,  and  make  the  land  ring;  and  if 
this  New-England  theology,  that  cramps  the  intellect  and  pal 
sies  the  soul  of  us,  does  not  come  to  the  ground,  then  it  shall 
be  because  it  has  more  truth  in  it  than  I  have  ever  found.  I  am 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  175 

perfectly  free  of  two  things,  —  of  FEAR  and  AMBITION.  What 
I  have  seen  to  be  false  I  will  proclaim  a  lie  on  the  housetop  ;  and, 
fast  as  God  reveals  truth,  I  will  declare  his  word,  come  what 
may  come.  It  grieves  me  to  the  very  soul  of  my  heart's  life  to 
think  of  leaving  the  ministry  (which  I  love  as  few  ministers 
love  it)  and  this  little  parish  ;  but,  if  duty  commands,  who  am 
I  to  resist  ?  If  you  have  any  word  of  advice  to  give  me,  I  shall 
be  glad ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  rejoice  in  the  new  field  of  useful 
ness  opening  its  harvest  to  you.  I  hope  you  will  teach  the 
young  men  to  be  valiant,  and  fear  not. 

Parker  was  brave ;  but,  as  has  been  said  already,  he  was 
tender,  with  an  immense  capacity  for  suffering.  He 
could  battle  long  and  well ;  but  to  battle  alone  cost 
him  dear.  He  wanted  love  ;  and  they  from  whom  he  had 
the  best  right  to  expect  it  failed  him.  He  speaks  of 
"  impudent  letters  "  from  gentlemen  in  his  profession  who 
had  been  friendly.  One  or  two  of  his  old  personal  inti 
mates  changed  their  manner.  That  Mr.  Andrews  Nor 
ton  should  receive  him  coldly  was  not  strange ;  but, 
when  one  who  had  been  to  him  a  bosom-friend  made 
him  a  visit  which  deserved  to  be  spoken  of  as  "  the 
most  painful  I  ever  received  from  any  man,"  the  bit 
terness  went  to  his  soul.  Those  who  called  themselves  his 
admirers  and  lovers  had  a  singular  faculty  of  remembering 
his  severe  words,  and  forgetting  his  grand  ones  :  the  spirit 
of  excessive  righteousness  came  upon  them.  Of  the  three 
that  abide,  charity  seemed  so  immeasurably  superior  to 
faith  and  hope,  that  they  stung  the  poor  sore  soul  with 
admonitions  against  sarcasm,  warnings  from  bitterness, 
beseechings  to  bear  in  mind  the  Christian  law  of  love,  till 
it  is  wonderful  the  high-strung  nature  did  not  become  wild. 
That  he  was  able  to  answer  such  letters  as  sweetly  as  he 
did  is  a  testimony  to  his  patience  that  should  weigh  some 
thing  against  the  biting  indignation  his  kind  censors 
deplored.  It  is  so  easy  for  people  to  forgive  their  neigh 
bors'  enemies ! 


176  THEODORE  PARKER. 

From  the  Journal,  June,  1842. 

"  I  have  done  nothing  for  a  month  ;  been  stupid  beyond  meas 
ure  ;  was  never  in  such  a  state  before.  Never  knew  till  now  the 
sadness  of  that  perpetual  disappointment  of  hoping,  hoping, 
hoping,  and  finding  nothing  come  of  that  hope.  But  I  sub 
mit.  I  think  I  should  complete  the  drama  of  my  life  well  by 
dying  next  autumn,  after  the  book  is  ended  ;  but  can't  tell  if  it 
will  then  end.  External  sadness  is  in  store  for  me,  no  doubt ; 
but  the  light  is  all  bright  and  beautiful  within.  I  feel  somewhat 
as  Luther  in  that  sad  period  of  his  life.  .  .  . 

"  Few  would  mourn  at  my  departure.  Some  few  souls  who 
know  me  as  I  am  would  find  a  few  tears  in  their  eye,  but  wipe 
them  soon  (such  is  the  nature  of  man) ;  others  who  have  heard 
my  word  with  joy  would  look  for  another :  but  the  many  to 
whom  my  name  has  come  would  rejoice  at  my  fall,  that  the 
churches  might  have  rest  for  a  season.  Why  am  I  spared  ? 
I  know  not :  not  for  what  I  enjoy.  I  asked  but  little  from 
Heaven  :  that  little  I  have  not.  I  am  disappointed,  but  not 
soured  ;  still  cheerful.  My  smiles  are  few,  but  heartfelt.  Let 
me  but  finish  the  work  now  in  my  hands,  that  my  past  life  may 
have  its  fruits  on  earth,  I  will  embrace  death.  I  know  not 
wherefore  I  am  spared.  There  are  some  living  that  I  cling  to 
as  to  angels  :  these  it  were  sad  to  leave.  But  "  — 

The  death  of  Dr.  Channing  awakens  a  similar  strain. 
To  a  friend  he  writes,  Oct.  5,  "  Dr.  Channing  is  dead.  He 
died  at  Bennington,  Vt,  of  the  typhus-fever,  on  Sunday 
afternoon.  You  know,  as  all  do,  that  no  man  in  America 
had  done  so  much  to  promote  truth,  virtue,  and  religion  as 
'he.  I  feel  that  I  have  lost  one  of  the  most  valuable 
friends  I  have  ever  had.  I  have  known  him  well,  and 
have  been  blessed  by  his  counsels  and  liberal  sympathy. 
His  mind  was  wide,  and  his  heart  was  wider  yet.  I  know 
not  what  we  shall  do  without  him  :  but  there  are  good  men 
still  left ;  though  never,  it  seems  to  me,  could  he  be  so  ill 
spared.  Well,  he  has  done  a  good  work.  I  am  glad  that 
he  has  lived  thus  long,  and  glad  that  he  has  gone  to  his 
reward." 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  177 

The  journal  betrays  a  sadder  mood :  "  I  have  to-day 
heard  of  the  death  of  Dr.  Charming.  He  has  fallen  in  the 
midst  of  his  usefulness.  His  faculties  grew  brighter  as  age 
came  on  him.  No  man  in  America  has  left  a  sphere  of 
such  wide  usefulness.  No  man  since  Washington  has 
done  so  much  to  elevate  his  country.  His  life  has  been 
spent  in  the  greatest  and  best  of  works.  A  great  man  and 
a  good  man  has  gone  home  from  the  earth.  Why,  O  my 
God  !  are  so  many  left  when  such  are  taken  ?  Why  could 
not  I  have  died  in  his  stead  ? 

"  To-day  was  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Channing.  There  was 
a  strange  combination  of  men  to  perform  the  services  of 
the  burial,  —  two  of  them  bitter  enemies,  two  others  dif 
fering  heaven-wide  from  the  doctor.  It  made  me  feel  dis 
agreeably  to  see  them  in  the  pulpit  to  speak  of  Dr.  Chan 
ning,  —  men  whom  I  have  heard  mock  at  and  deride  the 
excellent  man.  But  strange  things  meet  in  this  world." 

Still  he  had  the  great  consolers  which  never  fail, — 
"  Nature,  full  of  God.  It  is  new  to  me  each  year.  Then 
there  are  my  studies,  the  prospect  of  usefulness,  endeavors 
to  promote  the  public  virtue."  Work,  the  greatest  of  con 
solers,  does  not  desert  him.  His  lectures  in  Boston  and 
elsewhere  cost  him  great  labor.  The  toil  on  De  Wette's 
"  Introduction  to  the  Books  of  the  Old  Testament  "  was 
not  ended  till  the  summer  of  1843,  having  cost  a  world  of 
toil,  as  well  as  more  time  and  money  than  he  could  afford. 
His  mind  teemed  with  literary  projects :  schedules  of  indus 
try  fill  pages  of  the  journal.  Studies  in  primitive  Chris 
tianity  ;  studies  in  church-history ;  studies  in  the  develop 
ment  of  doctrine;  studies  in  the  dynasties  of  Egypt,  —  the 
dismal  chronicles  of  conjectural  kings ;  studies  in  mytholo 
gy,  —  Persian,  Semitic,  Christian  ;  studies  in  philosophy,  — 
Bacon,  Leibnitz,  Plato, — occupy  his  severer  days.  In  hours 
of  comparative  leisure,  the  poets  of  Greece  —  Tyrtaeus, 
Anacreon,  Sappho,  Orpheus,  and  Pindar — come  to  his  side. 
In  profounder  moods  of  meditation,  his  companions  are 


178  THEODORE  PARKER. 

La  Motte  Fe'nelon,  Madame  Guyon,  and  John  Woolman, 
in  whose  sober,  deep  piety  his  soul  finds  repose.  Transla 
tions  from  the  German  of  mystic  hymns  reveal  the  still  long 
ings  of  his  spirit  for  the  infinite  peace.  His  life  was  getting 
stormy  on  the  surface ;  but  below  reigned  the  perpetual 
calm. 

That  he  was  able  to  preserve  the  even  balance  of  his 
opinions  attests  the  depth  of  his  conviction.  He  would 
not  be  driven  to  extremes,  or  tempted  to  associate  himself 
with  views  that  lay  invitingly  adjacent  to  his  own.  The 
cool  abyss  of  pantheism  must  have  looked  attractive  to  his 
fervid  faith.  The  glowing  diction  of  his  books  roused  some 
thing  more  than  a  suspicion  that  he  had  plunged  into  that 
shoreless  sea.  But  he  writes  to  a  friend,  "  I  am  no  pan 
theist,  nor  ever  was.  I  am  no  more  troubled  by  pantheism 
or  by  anthropomorphism  than  at  noonday  the  evening 
and  morning  twilight  trouble  me.  The  whole  difficulty 
comes  of  attempting  to  get  a  logical  and  definite  concep 
tion  of  God ;  but  neither  the  head  nor  the  heart  will  subsist 
on  abstractions."  He  was  accused  of  depreciating  Jesus. 
To  another  friend  he  writes,  "  It  seems  to  me,  that,  if  we 
always  obeyed  the  law  God  has  written  on  our  hearts,  the 
decisions  of  reason,  of  conscience,  and  of  faith,  would  be  as 
infallible  in  their  action  as  the  instinct  of  the  bee  and  the 
law  of  gravitation  now  are.  But  no  man  is  in  this  state. 
We  are  not  one  with  God  as  Christ  was :  so  we  are  in 
doubt  and  fear.  The  best  and  wisest  now  feel  this  the 
most  deeply.  Jesus  alone  felt  none  of  it"  He  was  called 
an  enemy  of  Christianity.  The  journal  testifies  thus : 
"  Christianity  is  a  field  on  which  may  be  raised  the  stran 
gest  crops, — wood,  hay,  and  stubble,  wheat  and  beans. 
The  soil  remains,  the  crop  varies.  .  .  .  The  time  is  coming 
when  men  will  wonder  quite  as  much  at  the  Christianity  of 
the  nineteenth  century  as  we  wonder  at  that  of  the  ninth 
century.  .  .  .  Christianity  is  progressive,  because  it  is  not 
positive,  but  natural :  therefore  Christianity  is  the  hope  of 


THE  UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  179 

the  world,  the  desire  of  all  nations."  He  is  blamed  for 
making  rash  and  hasty  generalizations  ;  yet  his  letters  to 
learned  correspondents  show  how  long  and  carefully  he  still 
entertained  questions  that  his  philosophy  might  have  been 
pardoned  for  answering  on  ^  priori  grounds,  —  such  as  the 
primitive  condition  of  man  on  the  planet,  the  descent  from 
one  or  from  many  stocks,  the  order  and  law  of  human 
development,  the  rank  of  succession  in  the  series  of  re 
ligious  stages.  No  suspicion  of  Darwinism,  or  of  any 
other  theory  of  evolution,  seems  to  have  entered  his  mind. 
It  was  urged  against  him  that  he  impatiently  discarded 
miracles  ;  but  his  refusal  to  sweep  away  stories  of  miracle 
on  general  grounds  of  theory,  his  discrimination  between 
different  classes  of  marvels,  and  his  curious  studies  in  the 
literature  of  the  supernatural,  —  some  of  them  very  recon 
dite,  and  all  of  them  perfectly  ingenuous,  —  refute  these 
insinuations.  His  name  was  constantly  associated  with 
that  of  Thomas  Paine;  he  was  tauntingly  spoken  of  as 
Paine's  disciple  and  successor:  but  when  Mr.  Horace 
Seaver  invited  him  to  take  part  in  the  celebration  of 
Thomas  Paine's  birthday,  Jan.  30,  1843,  Mr.  Parker  sent 
the  following  reply :  — - 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Jan.  14,  1843. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  favor  of  the  I  ith  instant  came  in  my  ab 
sence  from  home  ;  and  I  now  hasten  to  reply  to  the  invitation 
you  offer  me.  With  the  views  I  entertain  of  Mr.  Paine's  char 
acter  in  his  later  years,  I  could  not,  consistently  with  my  own 
sense  of  duty,  join  with  you  in  celebrating  his  birthday.  I  feel 
grateful,  truly  so,  for  the  service  rendered  by  his  political 
writings,  and  his  practical  efforts  in  the  cause  of  freedom;  though 
with  what  I  understand  to  be  the  spirit  of  his  writings  on 
theology  and  religion  I  have  not  the  smallest  sympathy. 
I  am,  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

THEO.  PARKER. 
HORACE  SEAVER,  Esq. 

There  has  been  no  intimation,  during  all  these  years,  of 
failing  or  impaired  vigor,  except  in  the  beginning  of  a 


l8o  THEODORE  PARKER. 

letter  to  Dr.  Francis,  written  from  St.  John's  in  August, 
1842  ;  and  there  he  merely  says  that  he  has  gone  down 
East  for  his  health.  The  journal  of  Jan.  i,  1841,  reports 
him  as  dull  and  in  low  spirits,  but  "  well  in  body,  tem 
perate  in  meats  and  drinks."  But  the  autumn  of  1843 
found  him  so  much  spent  from  anxiety  and  toil,  that  a  voy 
age  to  Europe  was  recommended.  His  great  work,  the 
De  Wette,  was  done  and  issued :  other  subordinate  work 
was  completed  or  dropped.  He  had  passed  through  a 
critical  passage  in  his  career,  and  had  reached  a  point  in 
his  professional  life  at  which  pause  and  retrospect  were 
desirable.  Anxious  to  survey  his  work  from  a  distance,  to 
give  his  mind  rest  by  letting  in  a  flood  of  new  associations, 
to  compare  the  ideas  and  institutions  of  the  Old  World 
with  those  of  the  New,  to  see  some  of  the  men  whose 
thoughts  had  nourished  him,  and  to  visit  some  of  the 
places  which  had  been  so  long  venerable  to  his  imagina 
tion,  he  accepted  with  gratitude  the  bounty  which  made 
the  year's  vacation  possible ;  and  on  the  gth  September, 
1843,  set  sail  in  tne  ship  "  Ashburton  "  for  England,  and 
put  the  Atlantic  Ocean  between  himself  and  his  past. 

To  those  who  review  now  the  period  just  covered,  it  is  a 
surprise  that  there  should  have  been  so  much  feeling  on 
so  small  occasion.  Mr.  Parker's  slight  unpleasantness 
with  a  score  of  gentlemen  in  Boston  hardly  justifies  so 
much  animosity  on  one  side,  or  so  much  sorrow  on  the 
other.  By  the  side  of  Savonarola's  deadly  fight  with  Pope 
Alexander,  or  Luther's  grim  battle  with  Rome,  the  Uni 
tarian  controversy  looks  paltry  indeed.  The  shedding  of 
ink  was  copious;  but  it  depleted  only  inkstands,  and  it 
blackened  only  paper.  The  sighs  and  wailings  were  un 
called  for ;  weak ;  almost,  it  may  be  thought,  childish.  But 
Theodore  Parker  was  no  sentimental  milksop :  he  was  a 
brave,  firm  man,  who,  when  tested,  proved  himself  pos 
sessed  of  heroic  qualities.  He  could  face  jail,  and  even 
gibbet :  steel  he  could  have  met  with  tougher  steel.  But 


THE   UNITARIAN  CONTROVERSY.  181 

no  such  fierce  provocatives  stirred  his  blood,  or  made  the 
involuntary  tears  caused  by  the  stings  of  insects  an  im 
pertinence.  Savonarola  and  his  peers  were  driven  back 
on  their  moral  grandeurs,  shut  up  in  the  citadel  of  their 
souls  :  they  had  at  once  the  support  and  the  consolation 
of  their  own  heroism.  Parker  had  none  of  this  stimulus  : 
unbuffeted  and  unchallenged,  he  had  nothing  to  do,  and 
nothing  to  bear.  His  friends  weakened  him,  and  his  foes 
did  not  strengthen.  He  fainted  because  there  was  nothing 
to  fight. 

Then,  it  must  be  said,  he  believed  that  a  second  refor 
mation,  more  radical  than  Luther's,  was  at  hand ;  another 
conflict  "  between  old  systems  and  the  Word,"  in  which 
the  soul  was  to  be  on  one  side,  and  Protestantism  backed 
by  Romanism  on  the  other ;  and  he  believed  himself 
called  to  be  a  leader  in  the  struggle.  In  the  proscribed 
body  of  Unitarians,  the  advanced  guard  of  liberalism, 
disciples  of  reason,  friends  of  culture,  he  naturally  ex 
pected  to  gain  allies  and  supporters.  To  find  them  blind 
and  heedless,  if  not  false,  was  a  bad  omen  for  the  cause 
of  truth,  a  sad  revelation  of  the  adversary's  might,  and  a 
bitter  presage  of  coming  woes.  What  the  Unitarians  said 
or  did  was  of  small  moment,  in  itself  considered  ;  but,  as 
indicating  the  temper  of  Christendom,  it  was  profoundly 
significant.  It  told  the  new  Luther  that  he  was  to  stand 
literally  alone ;  and  it  told  him  this,  not  in  tones  that 
thrilled  the  blood,  but  in  smooth  accents  which  betrayed 
the  lack  of  spiritual  virility  in  the  speakers,  and  implied 
the  disbelief  of  it  in  the  protestant,  who  had  not  even  the 
comfort  of  being  assailed.  This  was  the  situation  as  he 
viewed  it.  The  view  may  have  been  mistaken,  distorted,  dis 
tempered  ;  but  it  was  honest :  and  they  who  can  share  it 
by  an  effort  of  imagination  will  not  condemn  as  unmanly 
the  personal  sorrow,  or  the  evil  forebodings  it  brought 
with  it.  To  a  mind  so  exercised  there  is  no  medicine  like 
travel  in  the  great  world  of  Europe,  which  quiets  while  it 
16 


1 82  THEODORE  PARKER. 

strengthens  souls  like  his  ;  for  there,  while  many  things  are 
a-making,  many  things  are  made.  The  world's  judgment  is 
written  large  in  the  world's  history ;  and  monuments  of 
victory  proclaim  the  final  success  of  what  seemed  once  to 
be  hopeless  struggle. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EUROPE. 

MR.  PARKER'S  year  in  Europe  was  no  holiday  trip  for 
sight-seeing:  it  was  a  serious  pilgrimage.  His  object  was, 
not  to  kill  time,  but  to  improve  it ;  not  to  evade  work,  but 
to  prepare  for  it.  He  took  mind  and  conscience  with 
him;  had  a  clear  notion  of  what  was  worth  seeing,  and  a 
sense  of  his  own  deficiency,  which  was  likely  to  make  him 
receptive  of  the  best  things.  No  more  intelligent  or  loyal 
American  ever  went  abroad.  But  the  Old  World  was  to 
him  a  new  world  to  be  explored  for  treasure  that  his  own 
continent  did  not  possess.  On  the  fly-leaf  of  his  Euro 
pean  journal  is  a  pencil-drawing  of  the  little  village  church 
in  West  Roxbury,  put  there,  it  would  seem,  as  a  symbol 
and  a  remembrancer,  to  keep  before  him  the  simplicity  of 
his  vocation  in  presence  of  the  rich  cities  and  superb 
cathedrals  he  was  to  visit.  On  other  leaves  are  lists  of 
things  to  be  seen  in  different  cities,  —  in  England,  matters 
relating  to  his  own  and  his  wife's  ancestors ;  points  in 
New-England  history  and  biography  to  be  looked  up  in 
the  herald's  office ;  the  Cudworth  Papers  in  the  British 
Museum ;  Lord  Howe's  monument  in  Westminster 
Abbey:  in  London,  the  houses  of  Johnson,  Franklin, 
Newton,  and  Milton ;  the  London  University  ;  "  see  Hal- 
lam  and  Hennell ;  ask  Dickens  about  the  writer  on  Amer 
ican  newspapers  in  '  Foreign  Quarterly  Review : '  in 
Germany,  examine  the  schools  in  Saxony  and  Prussia, 

'83 


1 84  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the   Herrnhiitter   Establishment :    in    Switzerland,  ascend 
Mont  JBlanc"     These  hints  strike  the  key-note. 

The  pilgrimage  begins  in  New  York,  where  he  is  de 
tained  three  days,  "  The  Ashburton  "  waiting  for  a  wind. 
The  bad  weather  does  not  keep  him  housed.  He  visits 
Lydia  Maria  Child,  soon  after  known  as  the  brilliant 
writer  of  "  Letters  from  New  York ; "  and  passes  hours 
with  Isaac  T.  Hopper,  for  whom  he  expresses  the  warmest 
admiration  :  "  I  have  never  seen  a  man  who  charmed  me 
so  much  as  a  thoroughly  Christian  gentleman.  He  is  fear 
less,  kind,  industrious,  frugal,  and  as  true  to  moral  prin 
ciple  as  the  needle  to  the  star.  I  can  never  tell  half  the 
veneration  I  feel  for  him.  It  makes  me  strong  to  see 
him."  In  company  with  John  Hopper  he  explores  the 
wicked  haunts  of  the  city ;  goes  to  Palmo's  on  Broad 
way;  spends  an  hour  at  the  "Five  Points;"  inspects  the 
"  Tombs,"  and  gets  no  better  impression  of  the  justice 
administered  there,  but  a  pleasanter  one  of  the  sanitary 
condition  of  the  prison ;  attends  church  at  St.  Paul's,  and 
thinks  the  service  unaffecting,  "fussy."  On  the  gth  the 
party  go  on  board  ship,  accompanied  by  a  few  friends,  who 
leave  with  them  a  fragrant  blessing  of  peaches  and  flow 
ers.  The  shore  of  America  floats  away  in  the  sunset. 
"  My  friends  are  behind ;  but  ONE  is  with  me  to  whom  my 
mortal  weal  and  woe  are  united.  I  often  think  I  ought 
never  to  return ;  yet  perhaps  I  shall.  Be  this  as  Heaven 
appoints." 

Mr.  Parker  was  a  thorough  landsman.  He  did  not  like 
the  sea,  nor  the  sea  him ;  but  no  sickness  could  repress 
his  indomitable  energy.  Books  failing,  he  tries  thinking  ; 
plans  courses  of  sermons  ;  lays  out  schemes  of  profes 
sional  work,  projecting  his  past  labors  into  the  future, 
with  difficulty  detaching  his  tenacious  mind  from  its  asso 
ciations.  He  is  disturbed  by  the  cruel  distinction  between 
the  cabin  and  the  steerage  and  forecastle,  —  a  hundred 
and  sixty  poor  wretches  in  the  steerage  with  almost  no 


EUROPE.  185 

comforts,  and  thirty  in  the  cabin  living  in  luxury.  "  As  the 
lion  in  the  wilderness  eateth  up  the  wild  ass,  so  the  rich 
eat  up  the  poor."  One  of  the  earliest  entries  in  the  jour 
nal  thus  expresses  the  spirit  in  which  the  pilgrimage  is 
undertaken  :  "  I  am  now  to  spend  a  year  in  foreign  travel. 
In  this  year  I  shall  earn  nothing,  neither  my  food  nor 
my  clothes,  nor  even  the  paper  I  write  on.  I  shall 
increase  my  debt  to  the  world  by  every  potato  I  eat,  and 
each  mile  I  travel.  How  shall  I  repay  the  debt  ?  Only 
by  extraordinary  efforts  after  I  return.  Those  I  design  to 
attempt."  Then  he  maps  out  a  comprehensive  scheme  of 
labor,  and  commits  it  to  paper,  as  if  to  make  sure  of  fideli 
ty  to  his  vow. 

The  voyage  of  twenty-five  days  ended  at  Liverpool. 
The  business  before  him  began  at  once.  We  cannot  at 
tempt  to  tell  what  he  saw ;  for  he  saw  every  thing  there 
was  on  the  surface,  and  much  that  lay  beneath.  His  was 
a  busy  journal.  It  contains  no  fine  writing,  but  records 
of  places  and  people  visited,  and  copious  memoranda  for 
thought.  His  route  varied  from  the  usual  track  (there 
was  no  beaten  track  then)  just  enough  to  take  in  a  few 
spots  of  historical  interest  rarely  visited  by  ordinary  tour 
ists.  Liverpool  and  Manchester  are  prodigies  to  him  of 
wealth  and  power.  At  Chatsworth  he  notices  the  "  Chris- 
tus  Consolator  "  from  which  the  familiar  print  was  taken. 
He  gathers  acorns  from  the  ditch  at  K^nilworth,  and 
plucks  ivy  from  the  walls  of  Leicester's  pride.  At  Warwick 
he  admires  the  Vandykes  and  Holbeins ;  the  picture  of 
Charles  I.  on  horseback ;  the  portraits  of  Strafford,  Igna 
tius  Loyola,  John  Locke.  At  Stratford  he  copies  curious 
inscriptions  on  tomb  and  chapel-wall ;  one  of  which  should 
be  given  here,  if  the  combination  of  old  English  and 
modern  hieroglyphics  did  not  make  exact  transcription 
hopeless.  At  Oxford,  wonders  in  quick  succession  astonish 
him,  —  the  venerable  buildings,  the  halls,  pictures,  and, 
above  all,  the  books.  In  the  Bodleian  Library,  not  satis- 
16* 


i86  THEODORE  PARKER. 

fied  to  be  a  gazer,  he  must  be  a  reader  too ;  and  has  a 
quiet  little  time  with  William  of  Ockham.  The  journal 
leaps  from  Oxford  to  Paris,  plunging  into  the  latter  city 
with  a  devouring  appetite  which  nothing  can  satiate.  He 
calls  a  cabman,  who  proves  to  be  a  good  fellow,  takes  com 
passion  on  his  ignorance  of  the  place  and  the  language, 
and  points  out  to  him  every  thing  of  interest.  (That  was 
a  time  when  an  American  was  a  curiosity  and  an  object  of 
reverence.)  His  first  destination  was  the  Sorbonne,  to  pre 
sent  a  letter  to  Victor  Cousin,  —  the  Sorbonne  in  the  day 
time,  the  Ope'ra  Comique  in  the  evening.  He  admires  the 
nobleness  of  the  ancient  churches,  —  Notre  Dame,  the  Pan- 
thdon,  St.  Sulpice,  St.  fitienne  du  Mont,  —  notes  the  curious 
non-observance  of  the  Sunday,  copies  the  queer  names  of 
the  streets,  marks  the  thrift  and  intelligence  of  the  working- 
people.  No  public  building  is  passed  by.  He  looks  in  at 
the  Morgue  j  rambles  about  among  the  old  book-stands  on 
the  quays.  The  great  gallery  of  the  Louvre  overpowers 
him  with  its  glory.  There  he  sees  the  Venus  of  Milo, 
which  he  thus  speaks  of  in  connection  with  the  Venus  de 
Medici  in  Rome :  "  The  toy  woman  came  to  her  perfect 
flower  in  the  Medicean  Venus:  that  is  all  she  is, — 
woman  as  a  plaything,  a  bawble  woman,  voluptuous,  but 
not  offensive  directly  to  the  conscience.  It  is  only  after 
much  reflection  that  you  say,  '  Get  thee  behind  me  ! '  But 
the  Venus  of  Milo  is  a  glorious  human  creature,  made  for 
all  the  events  of  life.  Imagine  the  Venus  de  Medici  as  a 
mother,  as  a  sister,  as  a  wife  to  some  rich  man,  and  his 
fortune  perished  !  Pah !  " 

He  has  time  to  peep  into  lecture-rooms,  and  take  notes 
of  lectures  on  all  sorts  of  themes,  from  mysticism  to  min 
eralogy,  from  the  philosophy  of  Descartes  to  the  first 
movements  of  life  in  the  zoophyte.  In  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes  he  hears  a  lecture  from  Isidore  Geoffrey  St.  Hi- 
laire  on  "  Vultures,"  which  contained  interesting  facts. 
He  takes  lessons  in  French,  and  practises  writing  the  Ian- 


EUROPE.  187 

guage  by  describing  in  that  tongue  Pere  la  Chaise  and 
other  places  of  interest.  Reading,  theatres,  walks  about 
the  city,  occupy  the  leisure-hours.  From  the  prayer-book 
in  use  at  the  Oratoire  he  copies  the  following  remarkable 
version  of  the  twenty-third  Psalm :  — 

"Tu  m'es  si  bon  que  par  ta  Providence 
Parfums  liqueurs,  j'ai  tout  en  abondance  : 
Tant  de  douceurs  accompagnent  ma  vie, 
Que  mon  bonheur  est  digne  d'envie  ; 
Et  tu  feras  que  dans  ta  maison  sainte 
Je  passerai  tous  mes  jours  en  ta  crainte." 

Hotel  de  Cluny,  Porcelain  Factory  at  Sevres,  Muse'e 
d'Artillerie,  Palais  de  Justice,  Hotel  de  Ville,  Hotel  des 
Invalides,  Bibliotheque  Royale,  the  Gobelin  tapestry,  St. 
Germain  des  Pres,  Palais  des  Beaux  Arts,  ficole  des  Beaux 
Arts,  St.  Denis,  Versailles,  each  calls  forth  its  appropriate 
emotion ;  while  the  procession  of  eminent  men  that  pass 
before  him  is  too  long  to  enumerate. 

He  liked  to  haunt  the  Boulevards  and  the  borders  of 
the  Seine,  and  recall  the  great  events  of  French  history ; 
seeing  in  the  foreground  the  gay  multitude,  in  the  back 
ground  the  awful  events  of  times  past,  —  the  rivers  of 
steel  which  once  ran  through  the  streets ;  the  blood  which 
soaked  down,  and  dripped  into  the  catacombs.  He  stood 
on  the  site  of  the  old  Tour  de  Nesle,  scene  of  mad  revelry 
and  murder;  remembered  the  Palais  de  Thermes  as  the 
place  where  the  soldiers  hailed  Julian  emperor,  and  where 
the  "  Apostate,"  so  called,  lived  all  winter  without  fire, 
save  once  or  twice  in  a  brazier ;  found  where  Abelard's 
house  used  to  be. 

He  went  to  the  very  roots  of  the  old  city.  The  Parini 
of  Caesar's  time  came  back.  "  The  word  '  par '  is  the 
same  as  '  bar,'  I  take  it,  and  meant  the  limit  between  two 
great  and  hostile  tribes  of  Celts.'  So  the  Parini  were  the 
borderers,  the  frontier-men,  of  old  time,  and  had  their 


1 88  THEODORE  PARKER. 

stronghold  on  the  island  in  the  Seine  with  its  two  wooden 
bridges."  Next  came  the  Paris  of  Julian's  time,  next 
the  Paris  of  the  Merovingians,  then  of  the  Carlovingians. 
He  gets  at  the  curious  fact,  that  the  foundation  of  Notre 
Dame  contains  remains  of  an  old  Roman  temple,  with  an 
inscription  still  on  the  stones.  He  must  have  been  a 
tired  man,  when,  after  twenty-six  days  of  this  work,  he 
took  leave  of  the  city,  and  set  off  by  diligence  for  Lyons. 

At  Lyons,  "  the  city  of  massacres,"  he  goes  into  the 
cellar  where  Polycarp  "  preached  the  gospel  of  Christiani 
ty  when  it  cost  something  to  be  a  Christian ; "  stands  on  the 
very  grave  of  Irenseus ;  sees  the  bones  of  the  Christian 
martyrs  piled  up  in  a  large  vault  •  and  in  those  memories 
forgets  the  "  Boston  Association,  the  heroes  of  the  Thurs 
day  Lecture,  and  the  trials,  dangers,  and  sufferings  of 

Brothers and ."     Avignon  comes  next  in  order. 

There  was  the  Palais  des  Papes,  —  convent,  palace,  prison, 
and  castle  in  one.  He  stands  (with  what  emotions  !)  in 
the  secret  chambers  of  the  Inquisition;  sees  the  holes 
where  the  instruments  of  torture  were  put  up,  the  fire 
place  for  heating  pincers,  the  dungeon  where  heretics 
were  starved  to  death ;  and  recovers  the  failing  conscious 
ness  of  his  identity  in  gratitude  that  those  hideous  days 
are  past,  and  in  resolve  that  the  future  shall  be  worthy  of 
its  opportunity.  A  day  was  more  than  enough  for  Aries  ; 
and  the  most  engaging  thing  about  Marseilles  was  the 
view  of  the  sea.  Genoa  then  opens  to  him  her  princely 
gates,  and  welcomes  him  to  romantic  memories  and  de 
licious  art :  it  is  a  sadness  to  break  away  from  it,  and  sail 
even  by  the  "  Charlemagne  "  to  Leghorn.  From  Leghorn, 
two  horses  took  him  in  a  coach  over  the  level,  cultivated 
country,  where  women  carried  piles  of  fire-wood  on  their 
heads,  and  walked  barefoot,  in  order  to  save  their  coarse 
hob-nailed  shoes,  to  Pisa.  Here  the  Duomo,  Baptistery, 
Leaning  Tower,  Campo  Santo,  call  forth  due  notice,  and 
the  beggars  due  comment ;  but  here  he  finds  other  curious 


EUROPE.  189 

things,  —  paintings,  relics,  historical  sites,  which  travellers 
do  not  commonly  know  enough  to  ask  about. 

Pisa  introduces  the  pilgrim  to  Florence,  the  fascina 
tions  of  which  are  so  engrossing,  that  he  stays  there  ten 
days  without  making  a  record  in  the  journal.  There  is 
the  San  Marco,  full  of  reminiscences  of  Savonarola.  There 
is  the  Medici  Chapel  with  Michael  Angelo's  "Day  and 
Night,"  the  tower  of  Galileo,  the  cathedral,  the  baptistery, 
the  seat  where  Dante  contemplated  the  beautiful  bell-tow 
er.  There  are  the  great  churches  on  which  architects  and 
artists  had  lavished  their  genius.  There  is  the  Santa  Croce, 
where  the  illustrious  Florentines  are  buried,  the  exiled  and 
persecuted  sleeping  in  peace  at  last.  There  are  the  mira 
cles  of  art,  —  the  works  of  Raphael,  Titian,  Del  Sarto  ;  the 
Apollo,  the  Laocoon,  both  of  which  rather  disappointed 
him  at  first ;  the  great  portraits,  Julius  II.,  Leo  X. ;  the  For- 
narina,  which  surpassed  his  expectation  ;  the  Seggiola,  — 
"  What  a  painting  !  God  in  heaven,  what  a  painting  ! " 
There  is  a  famous  library  too,  the  Laurentian,  with  treas 
ures  of  literature.  What  is  there  not  in  Florence  for  one 
with  Parker's  eyes  ?  But  Florence,  too,  must  be  left.  He 
returns  to  Leghorn,  and  takes  vessel  for  Naples.  Of 
course,  nothing  of  interest  is  omitted.  He  ascends  Vesu 
vius,  and  goes  so  near  the  crater,  that  he  is  in  danger 
from  the  masses  of  melted  stone  which  fall  continually. 
A  few  of  the  smaller  pieces  hit  him  on  the  shoulder.  Baiae, 
Puteoli,  Pozzuolo  ;  the  places  "  where  the  old  Romans  rev 
elled  in  their  Titanic  lust,  poisoned  one  another,  framed 
plans  or  conspiracies  which  affected  the  welfare  of  the 
world  ; "  the  spots  where  Cicero  had  his  villa,  where  Hor 
ace  wrote  his  poems,  where  Pollio  fattened  fish  for  his  ta 
ble  with  refractory  slaves,  where  Virgil,  by  tradition,  was 
buried,  —  all  these  he  visited.  But  here,  as  everywhere, 
he  made  a  study  of  the  town  itself,  the  population,  taxes, 
cost  of  living,  statistics  of  traffic,  &c. ;  having  an  eye  for 
the  humanity  in  the  streets,  as  well  as  for  the  art  in  the 


190  THEODORE  PARKER. 

galleries.  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  interested  him  so 
much,  that  he  made  a  diagram  of  them.  At  the  theatre 
only,  he  went  to  sleep. 

From  Naples  to  Rome  by  diligence,  —  a  tiresome  drive, 
with  lumbering  vehicle,  jaded  horses,  clumsy  conductor, 
and  frequent  delays  from  trivial  causes.  The  most  beauti 
ful  part  of  the  scenery  was  passed  in  the  night.  The  early 
morning  gives  sight  of  Gaeta,  the  ugly  cattle  on  the  Pon- 
tine  marshes,  the  desolate  Campagna,  the  wretched  people, 
the  dirty  villages.  As  the  day  wears  on,  the  classic  spots, 
one  after  another,  appear.  He  is  on  the  great  road  which 
Hannibal  and  Fabius  Maximus  and  Sylla  travelled  with 
their  armies.  On  either  side  the  plains  had  been  battle 
fields.  Caesar  and  Pompey  and  the  triumvirs  had  taken 
their  turn  of  victory  and  defeat  on  these  vast  wastes. 
The  traveller  has  Horace  in  his  hand,  and  follows  the 
poet  in  his  description  of  the  spots  passed.  Along  the  Ap- 
pian  Way,  in  sight  of  the  mounds  that  covered  fine  villas 
of  wealthy  nobles,  past  tombs  and  aqueducts,  they  roll 
on  from  Albano,  and  come  within  view  of  Rome.  The 
gate  was  passed  at  half-past  three  o'clock  on  a  March 
afternoon.  Close  by  famous  buildings  they  drove  to  the 
Dogana.  In  an  hour's  time,  after  applying  in  vain  at 
seven  public-houses,  lodgings  were  found  at  70  Via  del 
Babbuino,  —  two  pretty  little  rooms  on  the  street,  first  floor, 
and  one  in  the  rear,  for  twenty  dollars  per  month,  service 
included.  It  was  the  2oth  of  February.  Rome  was  in  the 
height  of  its  glory  and  gayety.  It  was  carnival-time.  The 
party  took  a  coach,  and  "rode  round  to  see  the  nonsense. 
Mem.  —  The  beggars  in  the  midst  of  this  festivity,  their  hid 
eous  deformity,  crippled,  &c.  Gave  half  a  paul  to  one.  Beg 
gars  are  sad  enough  objects  at  all  times :  on  a  festal  day 
what  shall  we  think  of  them  ?  Men  throw  flour  at  each  oth 
er,  and  the  rich  spoil  the  coats  of  the  rich  with  what  would 
have  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  beggars.  'Whatsoever 
ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you.'  Ah  !  this  is  the 


EUROPE.  191 

place  where  Paul  was  beheaded.  They  would  crucify  Christ 
if  he  were  to  come  here  or  to  Boston.  God  bless  men  ! 
they  can't  crucify  Christianity.  In  the  evening  L.  and  I 
went  to  the  theatre,  —  the  everlasting  Polichinello." 

This  homebred  rustic  has  an  eye  for  art.  In  the  Vati 
can,  the  palaces,  the  churches,  he  picks  out  the  gems,  and 
yields  to  them  the  homage  of  unfeigned  admiration.  The 
beauty  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere  comes  to  him  now.  The 
Laocoon,  which  disappointed  him  in  Florence,  holds  him 
by  its  wonderful  spell  of  suffering.  The  silence  of  the 
agony  impresses  him  as  it  does  everybody ;  but  everybody 
does  not  get  at  the  artist's  secret  as  he  does.  The  point 
that  Lessing  makes  so  admirably  in  his  famous  essay  —  that 
the  marble  description  of  a  cry  would  be  fatal  to  a  work 
of  pure  art  —  occurs  to  Parker,  who  makes  no  allusion  to 
Lessing,  and  probably  had  never  seen  his  essay.  Michael 
Angelo's  "  Moses "  is  to  him  a  wonderful  thing :  "  He 
looks  as  if  he  could  compile  or  devise  laws  to  hold  a  na 
tion  for  thousands  of  years,  and  seems  armed  with  the 
deep  insight  into  causes  which  marks  the  philosopher,  and 
the  ready  faculty  to  grapple  with  effects  that  makes  the 
practical  leader."  Michael  Angelo  is  his  master.  Ra 
phael  now  and  then  disappoints,  as  in  the  "  Galatea ; " 
Domenichino  seldom  meets  anticipation;  Leonardo  and 
Titian  surprise  him  in  their  greatest  paintings  by  their 
perfect  accomplishment  and  subtle  feeling.  There  must 
be  a  soul  in  work,  if  he  is  to  be  pleased.  In  architecture, 
the  simple  grandeur  of  the  temple  is  more  impressive  to 
him  than  any  magnificence  of  style,  or  sumptuousness  of 
decoration. 

But  it  is  as  a  Christian  minister,  after  all,  that  the  pil 
grim  sets  himself  to  study  Rome.  The  Christendom  of 
fifteen  centuries  is  there.  The  most  imposing  part  of  liv 
ing  Christendom  is  there  also.  He  is  there  for  a  few 
weeks  :  he  must  not  miss  his  opportunity.  Well  equipped 
with  learning,  well  furnished  with  understanding,  singular- 


192  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ly  endowed  with  candor  and  ingenuousness,  with  a  schol 
ar's  reverence  for  the  past,  a  wise  man's  charity  for  the 
present,  a  philosopher's  trust  in  the  future,  a  disciple's 
humility,  a  reformer's  earnestness,  he  addressed  himself 
to  the  task  of  studying  the  religion  of  Rome.  One  of  his 
first  expeditions  was  to  the  Coliseum  ;  and  thus  his  im 
pressions  are  recorded :  "  It  is  more  perfect  than  I  feared. 
It  has  now  been  consecrated  to  keep  it  from  the  devas 
tations  of  the  barbarians  of  modern  Rome.  At  the  en 
trance  is  a  cross,  with  a  sign-board  which  promises  forty 
days'  indulgence  to  all  who  will  kiss  the  cross.  In  the 
very  centre  of  the  amphitheatre  is  another  cross  with  an 
other  direction,  —  that  he  who  kisses  that  shall  have  plenary 
indulgence  for  two  hundred  days.  If  Seneca  or  Cicero 
were  to  come  back,  he  would  think  the  world  had  made 
little  progress  in  the  theory  of  religion,  whatever  had  been 
done  in  the  practice  of  it.  Sometimes  a  monk  preaches 
here.  What  recollections  come  up  !  —  the  gladiators,  the 
wild  beasts,  the  Christians,  the  emperors,  the  armies ; 
Rome  fallen ;  the  new  Rome,  and  that,  too,  fallen.  Oh  ! 
one  could  move  the  stones  by  preaching  here.  I  could 
not  help  looking  at  the  place  professionally,  and  thinking 
it  would  be  a  fine  place  to  preach  Parkerism  in." 

The  churches  are  a  study,  —  St.  John  Lateran,  famed 
for  the  twelve  great  councils  held  there.  "  In  the  church 
is  the  table  on  which  Christ  and  the  twelve  took  the  last 
supper.  Here,  too,  are  the  heads  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Pe 
ter.  Here,  also,  we  saw  the  actual  well  of  Samaria  be 
tween  two  pillars  from  Pilate's  house  in  Jerusalem ;  the 
stone  on  which  the  soldiers  cast  lots  for  Christ's  Vesture ; 
the  pillars  between  which  Pilate  stood  when  he  told  the 
people  to  take  the  Christ  and  crucify  him ;  the  column 
that  split  asunder  at  his  crucifixion  (it  is  split  asunder 
quite  uniformly  the  whole  length;  it  is  about  a  foot  in 
diameter,  and  ten  feet  long)  ;  and  four  columns  support 
ing  a  slab  which  shows  the  exact  height  of  Jesus,  — just  six 


EUROPE.  193 

feet ;  and  not  far  off  is  the  Santa  Scala,  a  flight  of  twen 
ty-eight  marble  steps,  which  Jesus  descended  when  he 
went  to  be  crucified.  It  is  not  lawful  for  any  one  to  walk 
up  them :  penitents  ascend  on  their  knees.  We  saw  sever 
al  going  up  ;  but  they  are  poor  folks,  for  the  most  part.  At 
the  head  of  the  stairs  is  a  chapel,  containing  a  picture  of 
Jesus  when  twelve  years  old,  painted  by  St.  Luke,  —  the 
only  one  from  that  artist. 

"  Went  to  St.  Peter's,  the  cupola,  the  ball,  and  all  that  is 
commonly  seen  here.  The  Inquisition  near  by,  with  four 
or  five  hundred  inmates.  The  guide  says  they  are  not  put 
to  the  torture  in  these  days ;  but  they  never  come  out 
again,  and  are  never  seen  any  more  or  heard  of."  Santa 
Maria  Maggiore  :  "  Exceedingly  rich,  but  not  imposing  ; 
not  a  religious  architecture.  It  seems  to  me  the  modern 
Unitarians  would  like  this  style.  It  is  clear,  actual,  the 
work  of  logical  and  demonstrative  heads,  wholly  free 
from  mysticism.  The  fragments  of  Christ's  cradle  are 
preserved  here ;  and  the  miracle  of  the  snow  that  covered 
the  Esquiline  Hill  on  the  5th  of  August,  352." 

CATACOMBS.  —  "  Went  to  the  catacombs  in  the  vicinity 
of  St.  Ignese,  a  little  way  out  of  the  city.  Entered  the 
chapels  with  the  little  caves  on  each  side,  each  large 
enough  for  a  single  body.  These  once  contained  the 
ashes  of  the  martyrs.  In  some  of  the  chapels  the  ceiling 
was  covered  entirely  with  paintings.  There  was  the  Good 
Shepherd ;  here  Christ  preaching,  though  but  a  child  ;  here 
the  Hebrew  youths  in  the  flames  ;  here  Daniel  in  the  lions' 
den;  here  the  whole  story  of  Jonah,  emblematic  of  the 
death  and  resurrection  of  Christ ;  and  here  the  miracle  at 
Cana,  the  symbol  of  transubstantiation,  and  many  more. 

"  I  am  confirmed  in  my  opinion,  that,  long  before  Con- 
stantine,  the  Church  had  departed  from  the  ideal  sim 
plicity  of  the  primitive  state  so  often  contended  for  by 
Protestants.  Indeed,  I  am  now  more  than  ever  persuaded, 
that,  as  Christ  gave  no  form,  the  first  one  used  by  the 
17 


194  THEODORE  PARKER. 

apostolic  churches  was  much  less  simple  than  we  fancy.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  impression  left  on  my  mind  by  this 
visit.  Yet,  as  I  walked  about  here,  I  could  not  but  think 
how  easy  it  must  have  seemed,  and  have  been  too,  to  bear 
the  cross  of  martyrdom.  The  recollection  of  Christ,  of  the 
apostles,  the  certainty  of  the  prayers  and  best  wishes  of 
men  of  earth,  the  expectations  of  heavenly  satisfaction,  — 
all  would  conspire  to  sustain  the  spirit,  and  make  the  man 
court,  not  shun,  the  martyr's  death. 

"  Father  Marchi,  a  priest  who  has  devoted  his  life  to 
the  study  of  the  catacombs,  went  with  us,  and  explained 
every  thing ;  showed  us  curiosities  without  stint  relating  to 
the  early  Christians  ;  bottles  of  dried  blood  of  the  martyrs  ; 
instruments  of  torture ;  images  of  Christ,  of  the  Virgin,  &c. 
I  saw  proofs  enough  that  some  of  the  alleged  '  corruptions 
of  Christianity '  date  back  to  107  A.D.  The  worship  of 
the  Virgin  can  be  traced  nearly  as  far ;  that  of  the  invoca 
tion  of  saints  for  the  dead,  quite  to  that  very  year.  I 
think  you  find  the  ceremony  of  saying  mass,  as  at  present, 
pretty  distinctly  traced  back  to  the  beginning  of  the 
second  century.  In  the  chapels  of  the  catacombs  are 
frescoes,  painted  in  the  second  century  (at  the  latest,  in 
the  early  part  of  it),  representing  the  miracle  of  Cana  in 
such  conjunction  with  the  saying  of  mass,  that  it  shows 
a  distinct  allusion  to  the  transformation  of  the  bread  and 
wine  into  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ;  at  least,  they 
say  so." 

On  Ash  Wednesday  he  visits  the  Sistine  Chapel  to 
see  the  pope  celebrate  mass  in  presence  of  the  cardinals 
and  other  church  dignitaries.  "  The  music  was  fine.  The 
ceremony  did  not  impress  me  at  all.  It  brought  to  my 
recollection  Him  of  Nazareth,  whose  picture  hangs  over 
the  altar.  I  remembered  what  he  said  of  the  temple,  of 
the  chief  priests,  &c.  The  whole  filled  me  with  compas 
sion,  and  drew  tears  from  my  eyes.  Is  it  always  to  be  so, 
and  in  Christian  Rome,  by  the  head  of  the  Church  ?  The 


EUROPE.  195 

ceremony  of  kissing  the  pope's  hand  or  foot,  the  kneeling 
before  him,  and  burning  incense,  and  all  in  the  name  of 
the  carpenter 's  son  at  Nazareth,  —  it  is  quite  too  bad.  I 
honor  the  learning,  the  zeal,  the  devotion,  the  humanity, 
there  is  in  the  Catholic  Church ;  but  this  nonsense  is  too 
much  for  me.  As  if  God  laughed  at  the  whole,  there  was 
the  awful  fresco  of  Michael  Angelo  representing  the  Last 
Judgment ;  and  here,  too,  was  Aaron,  with  the  Hebrews 
worshipping  the  golden  calf;  and  Moses  in  indignation, 
breaking  the  tables  he  had  just  received  !  There  is  no 
irony  like  that  of  Nature."  The  music  rarely  fails  to 
touch  him;  the  ceremony  never  succeeds.  As  the  pope 
blesses  the  palms,  he  compares  the  violet  dresses  of  the 
cardinals  with  the  garments  that  were  once  stripped  off 
the  peasants'  backs,  and  laid  beneath  the  ass's  tread.  The. 
passionate  music  of  Allegri's  "  Miserere  "  will  not  drown 
his  spiritual  remonstrance  against  the  haughtiness  of  the 
assembly  ;  and  as,  standing  on  the  piazza,  he  looks  at  the 
illuminated  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  "like  a  story  from 
the  '  Arabian  Nights,'  "  the  mendicants  in  the  square  sug 
gest  the  number  of  the  "  honest  poor  for  whom  no  candle 
burns  all  the  year." 

Still  he  has  a  heart  of  charity.  At  St.  Peter's  he  hears 
the  sweet  music  at  vespers,  and  smells  the  incense  :  the 
music,  "  the  perfection  of  music,  —  it  would  stir  the  heart 
of  a  statue  to  hear  it.  The  children  were  gathered 
together  (i.e.,  a  few  children)  to  be  instructed.  Half  a 
loaf  is  better  than  no  bread  ;  and  I  make  no  doubt  the 
essentials  of  Christianity  are  inculcated." 

He  was  presented  to  the  pope,  who  stood  in  the  simple 
dress  of  a  monk,  with  his  back  against  a  sort  of  table,  and 
talked  a  little  about  the  state  of  Rome,  the  English  lan 
guage  in  America,  the  famous  polyglot  cardinal  at  the 
Propaganda.  He  looked  kindly  on  the  visitors,  made  a 
sign,  and  they  withdrew. 

Mr.  Parker  made  serious  efforts  to  understand  the  reli- 


!96  THEODORE  PARKER. 

gion  of  Rome,  not  from  the  monuments  only,  or  the  cere 
monies,  the  superstitions,  and  the  dumb-shows,  but  from 
the  men  who  interpreted  and  administered  it.  He  visits 
under  the  best  guidance  the  College  of  the  Propaganda, 
where  men  of  every  nation,  tongue,  and  complexion,  are 
instructed  in  the  faith,  and  prepared  to  proclaim  it  to  all 
lands  in  their  own  speech ;  and  he  visits  the  Industrial 
School  for  Poor  Girls  ;  the  Conservatory  of  the  Virgin  of 
Sorrow,  founded  by  Cardinal  Odescalchi.  Letters  of  in 
troduction  make  him  acquainted  with  men  eminent  in  the 
Church  for  piety,  goodness,  and  learning ;  with  Dr.  Grant, 
Bishop  Baggs,  Father  Glover,  Cardinal  Acton.  Bishop 
Baggs  and  Father  Glover  favor  him  with  long  conversa 
tions  on  the  doctrines  and  institutions  of  the  Church ;  he 
not  disputing  with  them,  but  questioning,  to  be  sure  of 
understanding  their  position.  "  I  feared  that  I  might  have 
sometimes  done  them  an  injustice  ;  but  I  think  I  have  not. 
I  have  found  them  universally  kind,  perfectly  free  from 
cant.  They  don't  draw  down  the  corners  of  their  mouth, 
nor  talk  through  their  nose,  nor  roll  up  the  whites  of  their 
eyes,  and  say  '  O-o-o-o  ! '  There  is  much  about  the 
Catholic  Church  that  I  always  liked,  —  its  music,  archi 
tecture,  paintings,  statues.  Besides,  there  is  a  long  list 
whom  I  truly  reverence  enrolled  on  its  calendar.  The 
Church  is  democratic  (in  the  good  sense)  in  appointing 
its  saints.  None  are  made  saints  except  for  personal 
qualities  ;  not  for  wealth  or  birth  or  power,  but  goodness. 
What  if  they  do  pray  to  the  saints,  as  the  Protestants  say  ? 
or  through  them,  as  they  say  ?  The  true  God,  I  take  it, 
would  as  lief  be  called  St.  Cecilia  as  Jehovah  ;  and  a 
true  prayer  must  be  acceptable  to  the  true  God.  I  told  a 
Jesuit  father  so  the  other  day :  but  he  said  that  was  an 
odious  doctrine  ;  it  justified  idolatry. 

"The  Catholic  Church  practically,  I  think,  cultivates 
the  feelings  of  reverence,  of  faith,  of  gentleness,  better 
than  the  Protestant  churches  ;  but  I  can't  think  it  affects 


EUROPE.  197 

the  conscience  so  powerfully,  and  I  know  that  at  present 
it  does  not  appeal  to  the  reason  or  practical  good  sense. 
While  Bishop  Baggs  says,  '  Out  of  the  Catholic  Church  is 
no  salvation,'  he  adds,  'but  none  is  damned  except  for  his 
own  fault ;  and  many  may  be  in  the  soul  of  the  Catholic 
Church  who  are  not  in  its  body'  God  only  knows  who. 
I  wish  I  could  think  better  of  the  priests  here. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  is  the  present  condition  of 
the  Catholic  Church  :  they  are  certainly  making  great  ex 
ertions  to  extend  their  faith  in  all  parts  of  the  world. 
The  present  pope  is  a  pious  and  excellent  man,  I  should 
judge,  —  one  that  fears  God,  and  loves  mankind;  believ 
ing  himself  fallible  as  a  man,  but  infallible  as  head  of  the 
Church  ;  and  his  character  has  had  an  influence  on  the 
Church.  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  the  Catholic  Church 
fall  now ;  for  which  of  the  Protestant  sects  could  take  its 
place  ?  Perhaps  it  will  outlive  them  all.  If  I  wanted 
to  convert  a  fop  to  Christianity,  I  would  send  him  to 
Rome;  but,  if  I  wanted  to  put  a  philosopher  in  the 
Catholic  Church,  I  would  send  him  anywhere  but  to 
Rome." 

It  is  the  custom  of  young  people,  on  the  eve  of  their 
departure  from  Rome,  to  drink  from  the  Fontana  di  Trevi. 
The  last  night  Theodore  Parker  was  there,  he  walked  out 
to  the  aqueducts  (it  was  full  moon) ;  took  a  last  look 
at  the  Coliseum,  where  on  a  former  midnight  he  had  seen 
an  owl  light  on  the  cross,  and  hoot ;  viewed  for  the  last 
time  the  Capitol,  the  columns,  and  bade  them  all  farewell : 
perhaps  he  thought  never  to  see  them  again,  but  was  grate 
ful  for  the  sight  once  in  his  life.  The  next  day  (Thursday, 
the  nth  of  April),  at  one  o'clock,  the  diligence  passed  the 
Porta  del  Popolo,  crossed  the  Milvian  Bridge,  and  trav 
elled  over  the  old  Flaminian  way  toward  Bologna. 

On  the  2oth  he  is  in  Venice.  "Venice  is  a  dream  of 
the  sea.  Occidental  science  and  Oriental  fantasy  seem 
to  have  united  to  produce  it.  A  pagan  Greek  might  say 
17* 


198  THEODORE  PARKER. 

that  Neptune,  drunk  with  nectar  and  Aphrodite,  slept  in 
the  caves  of  the  sea,  and  dreamed  as  he  slept :  Venice 
is  the  petrifaction  of  his  dream.  The  sun  colors  curiously 
the  walls  of  her  palaces  and  churches:  it  seems  as  if 
their  wealth  had  run  over,  and  stained  the  walls.  What  a 
history  was  hers  !  what  a  destiny  in  the  economy  of  the 
world  !  Who  that  lived  in  the  time  of  the  second  crusade 
could  ever  have  fancied  her  present  lot  ?  Yet  who  knows 
that  her  ports  shall  not  again  be  full  of  the  wealth  of  the 
East,  and  merchants  from  afar  traffic  with  her  ?  Let 
canals  and  railroads  do  their  work,  and  she  may  live 
again." 

From  Venice  by  rail  to  Padua,  and  thence  by  diligence 
to  Vicenza ;  thence  by  vetturino  to  Verona ;  from  Verona 
over  the  Brenner  Pass  to  Innsbruck,  —  the  lovely,  romantic 
town,  surrounded  by  picturesque  mountains,  where  the 
wolves  could  then  be  heard  by  the  villagers  talking 
together  at  night.  He  takes  time  to  see  the  twenty-eight 
colossal  statues  of  royal  persons,  in  bronze,  that  sur 
round  the  tomb,  surpassingly  rich  in  carving,  where  the 
Emperor  Maximilian  was  not  buried.  From  Innsbruck  to 
Munich,  of  which  small  mention  is  made.  From  Munich 
to  Regensburg ;  the  funny  little  towns  on  the  way  being 
"  done  "  in  ink  on  the  pages  of  the  journal,  there  being 
no  better  use  for  the  space.  From  Regensburg  by  dampf- 
schiff  on  the  Donau  to  Passau  and  Lintz,  the  same  indus 
trious  but  not  artistic  pen  making  caricatures  of  the  ugly 
faces  on  the  boat.  The  curious  would  not  be  much 
enlightened  in  regard  to  the  scenery  on  the  Danube  by 
these  sketches.  At  last,  on  Tuesday  the  yth,  at  about 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  he  is  at  the  "  Golden  Lamb  " 
in  Vienna.  The  city  struck  him  as  the  most  frivolous 
city  in  Europe,  —  elegant,  easy,  heartless  :  only  St.  Ste 
phen's  seemed  to  redeem  it ;  and  that  belonged  to  an 
other  age.  "  All  the  mediaeval  cities  are  serious  :  even 
the  Paris  of  the  middle  age  is  serious,  almost  sad-look- 


EUROPE.  199 

ing;  but  the  modern  Paris  is  far  less  frivolous  than 
Vienna.  For  Vienna  there  is  no  life  of  science,  art,  litera 
ture,  or  commerce ;  only  politics  and  pleasure."  But  he 
enjoyed  the  pictures  in  the  gallery  of  Count  Esterhazy 
and  the  Royal  Gallery,  —  the  Murillos,  Raphaels,  Peru- 
ginos,  Paul  Veroneses.  The  famous  Correggios  he  ad 
mired  less.  The  journal  mentions  nothing  of  this ;  only 
the  music  of  Strauss,  which  seemed  singularly  suited  to 
the  city.  Twelve  years  afterward  he  advised  friends  in 
Vienna  not  on  any  account  to  miss  the  paintings,  mention 
ing  the  particular  gallery  in  which  his  favorites  hung; 
but  the  music  of  Strauss  impressed  him  as  more  con 
genial  to  the  place,  —  "  rich,  rhythmic,  graceful : "  it  re 
minded  him  of  Paul  Veronese's  pictures,  "  examples  of 
a  joyous  festivity  of  well-bredness."  The  drive  from. 
Vienna  to  Prague  had  few  incidents,  though  the  blithe 
pencil  made  its  quaint  observations  on  the  page  of  the 
journal.  Prague  was  interesting.  The  ancient  city,  type 
of  the  middle  ages  ;  the  Jews'  quarter ;  the  venerable  He 
brew  burial-place ;  the  antique  synagogue,  the  walls 
whereof  are  black  with  grime,  because  to  clean  them 
might  erase  the  name  of  God,  supposed  to  be  inscribed 
somewhere  on  the  stone ;  the  monumental  bridge ;  the 
grotesque  legends  of  St.  John  Nepomuck ;  the  palaces  j 
the  Wallenstein  Fortress  ;  the  Black  Tower  and  the  White 
Tower ;  the  queer  streets  ;  the  odd  churches,  saturated  with 
the  superstitions  of  hundreds  of  years ;  the  memorials 
of  Huss  and  Jerome  and  the  religious  wars,  —  got  hold 
of  Parker  by  his  faculty  of  veneration.  He  bought  some 
Hebrew  books  in  a  Jewish  bookstore  surprisingly  cheap. 
He  could  have  bought  the  complete  Talmud  in  twelve  vol 
umes,  large  paper,  a  fine  copy,  for  forty  gulden.  Twelve 
days  are  all  he  can  spare  for  Dresden :  but  there  are 
Raphael's  divine  "Madonna,"  and  Titian's  "Tribute 
Money,"  and  Veronese's  "  Marriage  of  Cana,"  and  Hol 
bein's  "  Virgin,"  and  the  Dutch  masters ;  and  there  in  the 


200  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  Green  Vaults,"  more  interesting  than  the  jewels,  inter 
esting  to  him  as  those  are,  are  the  ring  and  drinking-cup 
of  Martin  Luther,  and  the  crucifix  of  John  of  Bologna. 
On  the  evening  of  April  18  he  is  in  Berlin. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  writes  to  Dr.  Francis,  "  what  sort 
of  a  place  Berlin  is  ?  No  ?  Imagine  a  sandy  plain 
forty  miles  square,  with  one  or  two  nasty  rivers  trying  to 
get  through  it,  but  doubtful  all  the  time  that  they  had 
taken  the  right  way ;  in  the  centre  of  this  plain,  and  on 
the  banks  of  the  most  doubtful  of  the  rivers,  imagine  a 
great  number  of  brick  houses  covered  with  stucco,  and  a 
few  churches,  and  so  forth,  of  the  same  material ;  then 
imagine  one  street  sixty  or  seventy  feet  wide  and  two 
miles  long,  with  another  street  two  hundred  feet  wide  and 
.one  mile  long,  having  four  rows  of  lime-trees  in  it,  a  foot- 
walk  in  the  centre,  and  two  carriage-ways,  one  on  each 
side ;  then  add  some  hundreds  of  other  streets,  all 
straight,  —  and  you  have  a  conception  of  Berlin.  For  the 
moving  part  of  it,  imagine  a  thousand  hackney-coaches, 
the  drivers  with  cows'  tails  on  the  top  of  their  caps,  a 
hundred  private  carriages,  four  hundred  drays  for  beer,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  carts  and  wagons  for  other  business, 
thirty  thousand  soldiers,  sixteen  hundred  and  fifty  stu 
dents,  a  hundred  and  eighty  professors,  a  king,  Baron 
Von  Humboldt,  and  two  hundred  and  seventy  thousand 
others ;  imagine  the  king  with  a  belly  like  Uncle  Tom 
Clarke,  the  students  with  mustachios,  the  professors  lec 
turing  on  Dagesh  lene,  the  king  '  counting  out  his  money,' 
Baron  Von  Humboldt  sleeping  on  his  laurels,  and  the  two 
hundred  and  seventy  thousand  smoking,  walking,  weav 
ing,  making  pipes,  and  getting  dinner,  —  and  you  have 
an  idea  of  the  personale  of  Berlin." 

The  days  here  are  given  up  to  literary  matters,  hearing 
lectures,  visiting  celebrities,  studying  the  institutions  of  gov 
ernment,  the  habits  and  morals  of  the  people,  inspecting 
schools,  collecting  statistics  of  education,  and  such  like. 


EUROPE.  201 

A  day  in  Potsdam,  —  to  most  travellers,  much  the  most 
agreeable  feature  in  a  short  sojourn  in  Berlin,  —  for  some 
reason,  gave  him  no  satisfaction:  he  counted  it  a  day 
wasted.  Sans  Souci  was  not  to  his  taste.  Of  the  Mu 
seum  he  hardly  says  a  word;  of  the  music  and  musi 
cians,  who  gave  lustre  to  the  flat  city,  not  a  word :  but  of 
the  scholasticism  of  the  place  there  is  much.  Hengsten- 
berg  and  Twesten  and  Marheinecke  and  Vatke  and 
Michelet  and  Boeckh  and  Schelling,  —  he  heard  them  all, 
each  in  his  own  department  of  philosophy,  history,  antiqui 
ties,  or  philology.  Hegelianism  was  in  the  ascendant. 
Here  is  a  characteristic  description  of  a  lecture  by  a 
young  disciple  of  the  school  (Werder)  on  Logik :  "The 
point  at  issue  was  Bestimmtheit  (the  definite  ground  or 
substance  of  thought).  He  got  into  a  great  passion  and  a 
desperate  fix  with  his  Bestimmtheit^  trying,  as  I  dimly 
gathered,  to  discover  the  Ur-Bestimmtheit  (the  funda 
mental  foundation).  He  said  in  Bestimmung  there  was 
Daseyn  (being)  and  Realite.  Hereupon  a  fat,  chubby 
student,  with  cheeks  like  one  of  your  classmates,  evi 
dently  his  ma's  darling,  tried  hard  to  conceive  the  dif 
ference  j  but,  after  numerous  ineffectual  attempts,  gave  it 
up  in  despair.  Then  said  the  professor,  'In  Daseyn 
there  is  Etwas  real,  und  Anders '  ('  something  real,  and 
something  else ').  Now, '  Etwas  ist  durch  und  durch  Etwas, 
und  nicht  Anders  :  Anders  ist  durch  und  durch  Anders,  und 
nicht  Etwas'  ('The  something  is  through  and  through 
something,  and  not  the  else :  else  is  through  and  through 
else,  and  not  the  something '). 

"  He  got  into  quite  a  dithyrambic  mood  upon  this  ;  put 
his  finger  on  the  organ  of  individuality,  then  laid  it  along 
side  of  his  nose,  then  flourished  it  in  the  air.  It  is  no 
easy  thing  to  go  down  to  the  profound  of  Hegelism. 
You  must  take  off  your  Sinnlichkeit  (corporeity),  which  is 
all  of  many  men  ;  then  lay  aside  your  Vorstellungen  (no 
tions),  which  is,  with  most  men,  like  plucking  ^Esop's  jay ; 


202  THEODORE  PARKER. 

then  take  off  your  Begriff  (conception);  then  you  are  'far 
too  naked  to  be  ashamed.'  In  short,  you  are  an  Ur- 
mensch  (primitive  man),  a  blosse  Geist  (pure  spirit).  You 
have  then  the  proper  l  alacrity  in  sinking : '  you  go  down, 
down,  down,  and  learn  that  Seyn  is  equal  to  Nichtseyn" 

The  most  interesting  of  his  studies  in  Berlin  were  those 
on  the  civil  and  social  condition  of  the  state  and  people. 
These  were  at  once  comprehensive  and  minute.  They 
are  too  long  for  insertion  here,  even  if  lapse  of  time  and 
the  social  changes  of  the  last  generation  did  not  consid 
erably  diminish  their  value  for  us.  But  it  is  interesting 
to  know  that  Theodore  Parker,  on  the  spot,  did  not  put  a 
high  estimate  on  the  moral  state  of  the  Germans.  The 
ancient  reputation  for  chastity  which  Tacitus  gave  the 
women,  was  not,  according  to  his  observation,  sustained 
by  facts.  The  statistics  of  the  consumption  of  beer 
and  ardent  spirits  proved  that  intemperance  was  a  pre 
vailing  vice,  —  not  the  intemperance  that  maddens,  but 
the  intemperance  that  muddles.  He  estimated,  that,  in 
Prussia  alone,  from  forty  to  forty-five  million  gallons  of 
distilled  spirits  was  consumed  yearly ;  while  the  consump 
tion  of  beer  was  something  enormous. 

The  ride  by  rail  to  Wittenberg  through  a  beautiful  coun 
try  was  a  great  delight,  and  Wittenberg  itself  was  pure 
satisfaction.  His  steps  led  him  directly  to  Luther's 
grave  in  the  Schlosskirche.  Opposite  was  the  grave  of 
his  friend,  the  illustrious  Melancthon  ;  and  near  each  were 
paintings  of  the  men,  said  to  be  by  Cranach.  "  Luther 
is  sadly  spread  out,  and  looks  hard."  The  church  con 
tained  the  pulpit  in  which  Luther  sometimes  preached, 
and  the  chancel  where  stood  the  tombs  of  the  electors, 
Frederick  the  Wise  and  John  the  Steadfast.  In  the 
church,  copies  were  for  sale  of  the  ninety-five  theses 
which  Dr.  Martin  Luther,  on  Oct.  31,  1517,  at  the  Eve  of 
the  Festival  of  All  Saints,  nailed  to  the  door  of  the 
Schlosskirche.  Theodore  bought  one  on  the  spot,  and 


EUROPE.  203 

inserted  it  at  the  appropriate  place  in  the  journal. 
"  What  a  change  from  then  till  now !  Where  shall  the 
work  end  ?  "  At  night  he  walked  in  front  of  the  church, 
lost  in  meditation.  "  The  evening  star  looked  down ;  the 
soft  air  fell  upon  my  head  :  I  felt  the  spirit  of  the  great 
reformer.  Three  centuries  and  a  quarter,  and  what  a 
change  !  Three  centuries  and  a  quarter  more,  and  it  will 
be  said,  'The  Protestant  Reformation  did  little  in  com 
parison  with  what  has  since  been  done/  Well  if  THIS 
work  be  of  God." 

He  went  to  Luther's  house ;  saw  the  very  room  where 
he  used  to  write  and  think  and  work ;  the  stove  which  he 
devised  himself,  with  its  reliefs  representing  the  four 
evangelists  and  other  scriptural  characters  •  the  seat  at  the 
window  where  he  sat  and  looked  out  at  the  evening  sky ; 
the  table  at  which  he  took  his  meals,  and  studied  with 
Melancthon  and  the  rest.  The  books  (he  had  not  many) 
were  gone.  Other  rooms  contained  curious  relics,  —  a 
beer-jug,  a  glass  cup,  some  embroideries  from  the  hand 
of  Catherine  Bora,  impressions  of  his  seal.  Outside  the 
walls  was  the  spot  where  Luther  burned  the  Papal  bull. 
It  was  railed  round,  and  planted  with  shrubbery.  A 
young  oak  grew  in  the  midst  of  it :  the  old  oak  under 
which  the  bold  deed  was  done  had  been  hewn  down  in 
the  Seven -Years'  War.  The  monument  was  visited,  of 
course.  On  a  pedestal  of  polished  granite  ("  I  regretted 
the  polish  "),  beneath  a  Gothic  canopy  of  cast-iron,  stood 
the  bronze  figure  of  Luther  in  his  preacher's  robes,  with 
his  Bible  in  his  arms.  "  A  grand  figure,  large,  manly, 
with  that  peasant's  expression,  but  full  of  nobleness  and 
Commanding  faith."  Below  was  the  inscription :  — 

"  Ist's  Gottes  Werk,  so  wird's  bestehen 
Ist's  Menchen  Werk,  wird's  untergehen." 

To  the  Rathhaus,  the  church-steeple,  wherever  Luther 
had  been  or  might  have  been,  this  true  disciple  of 


204  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Luther  went,  drinking  in  the  great  German's  soul  all  the 
time. 

At  Halle  he  heard  Erdmann  defend  Schleiermacher 
from  the  charge  of  pantheism ;  saw  Tholuck,  and  heard 
him  lecture ;  went  to  the  house  of  Gesenius,  the  great 
Hebrew  scholar,  walked  in  his  garden,  plucked  a  leaf 
from  the  vine  that  grew  over  his  window,  and  paid  a  visit 
to  his  grave. 

At  Leipsic  he  went  about  with  Dr.  Fliigel  to  see  old 
Hermanns,  whom  he  heard  talk  about  German  scholars, 
and  lecture  ;  and  dropped  a  tear  on  the  grave  of  Charles 
Stearns  Wheeler,  an  excellent  American  scholar,  and  a 
beautiful  spirit,  who  went  to  Leipsic  to  study  and  to 
die.  At  Liitzen  he  saw  the  stone  where  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus  died,  and  the  Rathhaus  where  his  body  lay.  At 
Weimar,  the  city  of  Wieland,  Herder,  and  Goethe,  he  had 
the  poor  satisfaction  of  viewing  the  outside  of  Goethe's 
house.  At  Erfurt  he  remembered  the  cloister  where  Lu 
ther,  when  a  monk,  paced  up  and  down,  and  the  monas 
tery  where  he  took  his  vows.  At  Gotha  he  admired  the 
fine  gardens  that  beautified  the  town.  At  Eisenach  he 
went  out  early  to  the  Wartburg,  where  Luther  lived  and 
worked  in  seclusion.  "  Saw  the  very  room  where  he  toiled 
in  translating  the  Bible,  the  table  he  wrote  on,  the  spot  on 
the  wall  where  he  threw  the  inkstand  at  the  Devil.  The 
blow  must  have  been  a  hard  one  ;  for  it  knocked  off  the 
plaster,  and  left  the  ink  on  the  stone  itself.  But  relic- 
hunters  must  not  be  critical.  Here  is  the  closet  he  used, 
studded  all  over  with  thick-headed  nails;  the  chapel 
where  he  used  to  preach  'justification  by  faith/  and 
1  hatred  to  the  pope.'  This  was  his  Patmos.  It  is  a  fine 
position.  You  see  a  great  ways  from  the  Wartburg."  At 
Frankfort  the  Jews  interest  him,  and  he  puts  down 
thoughts  on  the  religious  condition  of  Germany.  At 
Heidelberg  there  were  learned  men  to  see,  —  Schlosser, 
Ullman,  Umbreit,  Havernik,  Delitzsch,  Paulus,  Creuzer 


EUROPE.  205 

(men  whom  he  knew  well  by  their  books),  Gervinus, 
a  young  man  since  so  famous  in  the  philosophy  of  his 
tory,  and  from  this  moment  one  of  Theodore's  warm 
friends.  After  Heidelberg  comes  Carlsruhe,  then  Stutt 
gart.  There  was  Thorwaldsen's  statue  of  Schiller,  and, 
in  plaster  then,  Dannecker's  beautiful  statue  of  the 
Christ,  which  J.  P.  Lesley  calls  the  noblest  image  of  the 
Christ  in  the  world.  Parker  admires  its  grandeur  and 
purity,  but  thinks  it  a  little  transcendental.  At  Tubingen, 
Ewald  and  Baur  were  the  great  figures,  —  the  former  the 
wonderful  historian  of  the  people  of  Israel,  the  latter 
the  founder  of  the  historical  school  of  New-Testament 
criticism.  He  had  long  talks  with  both,  besides  hearing 
them  lecture.  The  conversations  were  not  fluent ;  for 
Theodore  had  not  the  gift  of  tongues  in  great  profusion ; 
but  he  contrived  to  get  at  the  heart  of  some  important 
matters.  Baur  was  a  prodigy  of  learning.  "  How  many 
hours  a  day  do  you  study? "  asked  his  visitor.  "  Ach  !  nur 
achtzehn  "  ("  Only  eighteen  "),  replied  the  old  man.  The 
American  never  touched  that  mark  even  in  his  best  days ; 
but  he  did  what  the  German  did  not,  —  he  spent  much  time 
in  adapting  the  results  of  his  mental  toil  to  the  people, 
and  in  putting  them  into  plain  working  shape  for  social 
uses.  The  Tubingen  giant  was  aghast  at  the  idea  of  tak 
ing  the  general  public  into  his  confidence:  it  was  the 
American's  effort  and  pride  to  do  so.  The  German  lived 
in  his  library  to  a  great  age  :  the  American  died  in  the 
prime  of  his  years. 

At  Bale  he  saw,  as  was  natural,  a  great  deal  of  De  Wette ; 
walked  with  him ;  dined  with  him ;  visited  under  his  guid 
ance  the  curiosities  of  the  place.  At  Berne  he  enjoyed 
the  society  of  the  Follens,  kindred  of  the  good  Charles 
Follen,  so  affectionately  remembered  at  home.  From 
Berne  he  had  his  first  view  of  the  Alps.  "The  solid 
mountains  seemed  clouds,  not  at  all  to  belong  to  the 

earth."     It  was  in  Berne,  too,  that  his  wife  earned  her 
18 


2o6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

name  of  "  Bear,"  or  "  Bearsie,"  from  her  delight,  not  un 
shared  by  her  husband,  in  Bruin,  the  tutelar  deity  of  the 
city,  enshrined  in  his  capacious  pit.  At  Lausanne  there 
is  a  cathedral,  an  old  castle,  Gibbon's  house,  and  fine 
scenery.  At  Geneva,  memories  of  Calvin  and  Servetus, 
of  Rousseau  and  Voltaire,  crowd  upon  him.  "  Went  into 
Voltaire's  house  :  saw  his  study,  sleeping-room,  all  just 
as  he  left  it.  The  furniture  is  of  the  plainest  character. 
From  this  little  room  he  made  kings  and  popes  tremble." 
There  were  no  great  exploits  at  Chamouni  :  only  the  Mont- 
anvert  and  the  Mer  de  Glace.  The  stay  there  was  short. 
Martigny,  Vevay,  Fribourg,  Lucerne,  came  in  rapid  succes 
sion.  The  heroic  legends  find  their  place  here.  At 
Zurich  he  heard  Hitzig  lecture  on  certain  points  of 
Hebrew  syntax :  "  Quite  entertaining,  as  might  be  ex 
pected."  He  also  heard  Oken  lecture  on  "  Amphibia : " 
"  A  little  man,  with  an  enthusiastic  face,  forty  to  fifty  years 
old;  lectures  with  great  rapidity.  Not  many  pupils  for 
this  course."  At  Schaffhausen,  Schenkel  is  the  object  of 
chief  interest.  Retracing  his  steps  to  Bale,  the  traveller, 
who  seems  to  be  in  a  hurry,  judging  from  the  note-book, 
pushes  on  to  Strasbourg.  There  the  cathedral  is  the 
prominent  feature.  He  mounts  the  spire  a*s  high  as  the 
police  permit.  Mayence,  Wiesbaden,  Biberich,  Ems,  Cob- 
lentz, — no  notice  of  any  thing  but  the  scenery.  In 
Bonn  he  tried  to  see  Bleek,  but  found  him  not  at  home. 
Presented  his  letter  to  Nitsch;  but  he  could  read  no 
English.  They  talked,  however,  not  much  to  the  Ameri 
can's  delectation  :  for  the  professor  was  narrow,  cold,  and 
dry;  was  surprised  to  learn  that  the  Unitarians  existed 
without  a  common  confession  of  faith.  He  spoke  of 
Strauss  as  gam  und  gar  unchristlich.  What  he  was  at 
heart  he  did  not  know :  his  life,  he  confessed,  was  pure. 

He  admires,  as  all  do,  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne,  but 
does  not  believe  in  finishing  it.  "The  day  of  building 
grand  churches  is  over.  Ours  is  not  a  believing  age,  but 


EUROPE.  207 

an  investigating  one.  Better  days  will  come,  when  a  no 
bler  civilization  shall  incarnate  its  thoughts,  and,  without 
oppressing  the  poor,  rear  temples  to  God  most  high." 
The  pictures  of  Rubens  in  the  Cathedral  of  Antwerp 
were  disappointing.  The  descending  Christ  "  is  a  man, 
not  a  dead  God."  Liege  and  Aix-la-Chapelle  awaken 
thoughts  about  the  Catholic  Church. 

"  What  is  to  become  of  the  Catholic  Church  I  neither 
know  nor  care  much.  I  have  little  fear  that  it  will  bring 
back  the  middle  ages,  while  the  philosophy  of  the  age,  the 
entire  spirit  of  the  times,  is  against  it." 

At  last  he  gets  back  to  England.  The  journal  becomes 
more  and  more  sketchy  and  illegible :  much  of  it  is  in  pen 
cil,  as  if  the  pilgrim  became  impatient  as  the  time  for  return 
ing  home  drew  near.  In  London  he  sees  Carlyle,  Sterling, 
Hennell  (whom  he  finds  more  negative  than  positive  in  his 
religious  views),  and  others  of  eminence ;  tries,  without  suc 
cess,  to  get  a  publisher  in  England  for  the  translation  of 
De  Wette  ;  hears  William  J.  Fox  preach  about  the  Jews, 
and  is  introduced  to  him  after  sermon.  "  He  may  be  the 
best  man  in  London;  but  his  face  is  unfortunate."  Of 
course,  the  round  of  sight-seeing  in  London  is  performed 
with  energy ;  but  few  impressions  of  it  are  recorded  in  the 
journal.  A  scant  page  is  given  to  Cambridge,  and  that 
contains  nothing  of  significance.  In  Liverpool  he  finds 
Martineau,  and  talks  with  him  about  "promiscuous  things." 

The  days  were  doubtless  fuller  than  the  journal.  The 
"promiscuous  things"  would  have  appeared  weighty  to 
anybody  else  ;  for  Mr.  Martineau  was  not  one  to  dwell  on 
trifles,  and  Mr.  Parker  never  wasted  the  rare  moments  of 
opportunity.  At  Cambridge  he  fell  in  with  an  English 
scholar  whose  special  pursuit  was  Aristotle.  He  could 
boast  that  he  knew  Aristotle  by  heart.  His  visitor  had 
read  Aristotle,  and  was  ready  enough  for  discussion  on  his 
philosophy  ;  but  that  topic  exhausted,  as  it  was  at  length, 
Parker  introduced  the  name  of  Plato.  The  Englishman 


2o8  THEODORE  PARKER. 

had  read  Plato,  but  only  once.  So  the  Yankee,  who 
perhaps  had  read  him  once  also,  but  remembered  him, 
descanted  copiously  on  Plato,  analyzing  the  separate  Dia 
logues,  and  setting  forth  his  views  over  against  those  of 
Aristotle.  Perhaps  he  called  that  "  talk  about  promiscu 
ous  things." 

The  journal  of  Sept.  i  has  this  record  :  "  Sunday,  after 
a  most  prosperous  and  felicitous  voyage  of  twelve  days, 
completing  the  quickest  passage  ever  made,  I  reached 
home,  saw  the  household,  William  Whitney,  the  blessed 
Russells,  —  all  the  four  little  and  live  plants  in  bed,  — 
and  Squire  Cowing.  Who  shall  tell  my  joy  at  returning? 
who  the  rapture  with  which  I  saw  old  friends  ? 

"  I  really  believe  that  my  enemy  hath  left  me;  at  least, 
for  a  seaso?i.  I  can't  tell  the  gratitude  I  feel  for  that." 

This  enemy  was  the  trouble  in  his  head,  which  had 
pained  and  alarmed  him  from  time  to  time  in  his  travels. 
His  health  had  not  been  uninterrupted.  He  was  ill  in 
Florence,  and  again  in  Rome,  with  symptoms  in  the  side 
which  were  distressing ;  but  his  apprehensions  he  kept  to 
himself. 

From  Florence,  in  January,  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Dr. 
Francis,  "  I  have  now  had  five  months  to  consider  my 
own  position.  I  feel  all  its  melancholiness,  the  severity  of 
the  task  laid  on  me  :  but  I  feel,  too,  that  I  must  on,  on  ; 
that  the  time  of  rest  will  never  come  in  my  day,  and  for  me  ; 
but,  so  long  as  I  live,  that  I  must  war  against  the  false 
gods,  and  their  priests  as  false.  I  have  done  little  hitherto : 
if  health  continues,  I  may,  perhaps,  do  somewhat.  I  am 
grateful  for  this  opportunity  to  pause  in  the  middle  of  my 
course,  and  see  where  I  am  going.  I  have  done  wrong 
things,  no  doubt ;  but,  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more 
the  general  tendency  of  my  path  seems  to  me  the  true 
one,  and  the  less  do  I  feel  an  inclination  to  turn  away  or 
to  stand  still."  Whether  his  subsequent  travels  in  Italy, 
Germany,  Switzerland,  altered  his  mind,  we  have  now  to 


EUROPE.  209 

see.  The  year  in  Europe  had  been  a  great  privilege  and  a 
great  delight.  He  had  seen  the  past  face  to  face,  and 
could  fill  it  in  as  a  strong  background  to  sustain  his 
present,  and  throw  into  relief  his  future.  It  had  been  a 
year  of  consolation,  which  he  felt  the  need  of;  and  of 
experience,  which  he  also  felt  the  need  of.  The  effect 
of  it  was  visible  ever  after  in  the  rich  fund  of  memories  it 
supplied,  but  more  palpably  still  in  the  solid  groundwork 
of  conviction  on  which  he  built. 
18* 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   CONFLICT   RENEWED. 

THEY  who  imagined  that  Theodore  Parker  would  return 
from  Europe  a  submissive  member  of  the  Boston  Associa 
tion,  with  changed  views  and  altered  purposes,  deceived 
themselves.  He  came  back  with  every  opinion  and  every 
determination  more  than  confirmed.  He  had  surveyed  his 
position  from  a  distant  point ;  he  had  viewed  it  under  all 
lights ;  he  had  examined  the  institutions  of  Christendom 
in  the  places  of  their  power ;  he  had  talked  with  high 
priests  of  the  Papal  Church  in  Rome,  with  Protestant 
ministers  and  theologians  in  London,  Oxford,  Berlin, 
Heidelberg,  Bale,  Zurich ;  he  had  attended  lectures  from 
the  most  eminent  professors  in  philosophy ;  he  had  stud 
ied  the  working  of  ecclesiastical  and  doctrinal  systems ; 
he  had  noted  the  signs  of  the  times  in  the  speculative, 
social,  and  moral  world ;  and  the  result  was  a  deeper  con 
viction  than  ever  of  the  justness  of  his  own  method,  and 
the  correctness  of  his  own  conclusions.  He  felt  himself, 
more  than  before  even,  a  reformer,  —  one  who  was  com 
missioned  along  with  many  others  to  lead  a  new  religious 
movement,  as  significant  in  its  time  as  Protestantism  was 
when  it  appeared.  His  beliefs  were  not  imported :  they 
were  the  native  product  of  his  own  mind  and  experience. 
They  were  felt  before  they  were  formulated.  As  a  boy, 
almost  as  a  child,  his  sense  of  the  reality,  the  immanence, 
the  infinite  perfection,  of  God,  had  been  profound;  his 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  211 

assurance  of  the  soul's  personal  immortality  was  beyond 
necessity  or  reach  of  argument;  his  reverence  for  the 
moral  law,  as  voiced  by  his  private  conscience,  was  habit 
ual  and  deep.  He  seems  never  to  have  doubted  on  these 
three  points  ;  and  they  were  the  cardinal  points  of  his  re 
ligious  faith.  Subsequent  study  and  reflection  hardened 
the  feeling  into  faith,  and  the  faith  into  formula,  but  added 
nothing  essential  to  the  substance  of  belief.  To  give  ex 
pression  to  these  three  great  verities,  to  make  them  seen 
in  their  beauty,  appreciated  at  their  intrinsic  value,  and 
accepted  as  vital  principles  in  private  and  public  life, 
was  his  ruling  passion.  He  proposed  as  the  great  object 
of  his  labor  to  prove  by  wide  historical  survey  that  the 
leading  races  of  man  gave  the  sanction  of  their  thought 
to  his  three  fundamental  positions ;  and  he  made  a  multi 
tude  of  very  interesting  and  close  studies  in  the  subject, — 
studies  conducted,  not  as  a  partisan  or  a  controversialist, 
but  as  a  philosopher,  in  a  spirit  of  singular  candor.  He 
read  the  best  literatures ;  he  gleaned  industriously  from 
all  fields  j  nay,  he  ventured  on  all  tests.  The  writings  of 
atheists  and  materialists  were  as  familiar  to  him  as  the 
writings  of  believers.  He  knew  Feuerbach  as  well  as 
Cudworth,  Vogt  and  Moleschott  as  intimately  as  Fichte 
and  Sintenis.  He  was  eager  to  talk  with  the  German 
professors  at  home  and  abroad  about  the  New  Hegelians 
and  their  strange  views.  Some  of  his  fastest  friends  were 
disbelievers  in  his  theological  opinions,  able  and  eloquent 
men  too :  he  was  glad  to  confront  their  minds  with  his 
own,  and  so  to  test  his  faith.  From  every  encounter  he 
came  out  with  stronger  conviction. 

The  sermons  preached  in  West  Roxbury  after  his  re 
turn  were  charged  with  positive  faith,  larger,  broader, 
more  earnest,  than  had  come  from  him  before.  The  neg 
ative  side  of  his  theology  was  presented  incidentally,  that 
the  affirmative  side  might  be  made  more  prominent.  He 
disturbed  what  he  considered  rubbish,  that  he  might  re- 


212  THEODORE  PARKER. 

veal  the  temple  ;  he  removed  the  shanties  of  the  workmen, 
that  the  people  might  behold  its  open  doors.  He  had  no 
objection  to  the  belief  in  miracles,  provided  their  impor 
tance  was  not  exaggerated,  or  their  function  misconceived. 
He  was  willing  that  people  should  believe  in  prophecies, 
if  they  would  not  regard  them  as  demonstrations  of  truth. 
As  has  been  repeatedly  said,  a  score  of  notes  on  the  pages 
of  the  journal  show  how  deeply  interested  he  was  in  the 
forecasting  power  of  the  human  mind,  and  how  little  dis 
posed  he  was  to  put  limits  to  it.  He  had  no  wish,  appar 
ently,  to  reject  any  thing  that  was  of  active  service  in  the 
cause  of  religion.  What  he  did  reject  was  thrust  aside 
simply  because  it  stood  in  the  way  of  direct  appreciation 
of  religious  truth.  He  wanted  that,  and  could  not  be  sat 
isfied  that  any  should  be  contented  with  less. 

But  for  the  unwise  passion  of  Mr.  Parker's  opponents, 
the  former  controversy  might  not  have  been  renewed. 
He  might  have  remained  at  West  Roxbury,  a  devoted 
parish-minister,  a  diligent  student  and  writer,  comparative 
ly  unknown  in  the  religious  world  outside  of  Boston,  and 
unfelt  as  a  power  beyond  the  confines  of  his  sect.  His 
enemies  did  for  him  what  his  friends  never  would  have 
done  ;  what  he  might  never  have  done  from  his  own  am 
bition.  In  November,  1844,  Rev.  John  Turner  Sargent, 
minister  of  the  Suffolk-street  Chapel  in  Boston,  —  a  mis 
sion-chapel  under  the  charge  of  the  Benevolent  Frater 
nity  of  Churches,  —  invited  Mr.  Parker  to  exchange  pul 
pits.  Had  Mr.  Sargent  been  an  independent  congrega 
tional  minister,  responsible  to  his  society  alone,  his  action 
would  have  made  no  great  stir  ;  but  being,  as  it  were,  the 
agent  of  an  association,  the  Executive  Committee  of  the 
Benevolent  Fraternity  felt  themselves  compromised.  They 
took  alarm  ;  called  a  meeting  immediately ;  deliberated  ; 
passed  resolutions  ;  framed  a  remonstrance,  which  was 
sent  to  each  of  the  ministers  at  large  ;  and  addressed  an 
earnest  letter  to  the  transgressor  of  ecclesiastical  proprie- 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  213 

ties.  The  case  was  interesting.  Mr.  Sargent  was  a  valued 
minister  among  the  poor.  His  family  contributed  largely 
to  the  erection  and  embellishment  of  the  chapel  where  he 
preached.  He  spent  freely  of  his  private  property  for 
the  people  under  his  charge,  and  was  untiring  in  his  la 
bors  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  city.  His  family  had  wealth 
and  influence.  His  personal  character  was  above  suspi 
cion  :  no  shadow  of  reproach  clouded  his  name.  A  devot 
ed,  upright,  self-denying  man,  he  went  out  into  the  alleys 
and  streets  of  Boston,  gathering  together  the  poor  and  the 
forsaken,  and  forming  a  society  which  prospered  under 
his  ministry,  and  became  strongly  attached  to  him.  He 
was  never  openly  accused  of  preaching  in  his  pulpit,  or 
believing  in  his  study,  the  opinions  which  made  Mr.  Par 
ker  obnoxious  :  indeed,  he  disclaimed  intellectual  sympa 
thy  with  them  in  the  letter  he  wrote  to  the  remonstrating 
committee.  But  all  this  availed  nothing.  He  had  ex 
changed  with  the  arch-heretic ;  he  justified  the  act ;  he 
would  make  no  promise  of  future  obedience  to  his  supe 
riors  ;  and  the  resignation  that  self-respect  dictated  was 
accepted.  The  ministry  to  the  poor  lost  its  best  man ; 
an  excellent  pastor  was  taken  from  service  he  seemed 
made  for,  and  eventually  from  the  calling  for  which 
he  had  shown  himself  eminently  fitted,  because  the 
Unitarian  body  had  not  courage  to  stand  by  its  own 
principle. 

The  case  made  a  great  sensation.  Letters  and  replies, 
arguments  and  counter-arguments,  criminations  and  re 
criminations,  came  out  in  newspaper  and  pamphlet.  The 
"  orthodox  "  struck  in,  jubilant  and  sarcastical.  The  sec 
ular  journals  took  the  matter  up  once  more,  and  thrashed 
the  vacant  straw  with  lively  flail. 

The  excitement  was  at  its  height  when  Mr.  Parker,  still 
a  member  of  the  Ministerial  Association,  took  his  turn 
in  preaching  the  Thursday  Lecture  at  the  First  Church 
in  Chauncy  Place,  on  Dec.  26.  The  Thursday  Lecture 


214  THEODORE  PARKER. 

was  an  ancient  institution,  inaugurated  in  the  early  days 
by  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  First  Church,  who  preached 
it  at  first  himself,  and  afterwards  invited  his  brother - 
ministers  in  Boston  and  the  vicinity  to  participate  with 
him.  For  many  years  it  was  a  famous  institution,  and 
went  by  the  name  of  "  the  great  and  Thursday  Lecture." 
But,  thirty  years  ago,  it  had  fallen  sadly  from  its  primeval 
glory.  The  galleries  were  empty,  the  lower  pews  nearly 
so.  A  score  or  two  of  venerable  women  glided  silently  in 
at  the  hour  of  eleven,  and  took  their  seats,  well  provided 
with  bottles  of  sal-volatile  against  the  probable  effect 
of  the  discourse.  Here  and  there  a  country  clergyman, 
drawn  by  legendary  associations  or  personal  regard  for 
the  victim  in  the  desk,  showed  a  resigned  face  in  the 
shadow.  The  choir  was  extemporized  for  the  occasion, 
and  made  music  of  an  extraordinary  quality  ;  the  handiest 
amateur  being  drafted  to  play  the  organ,  a  son  of  the 
minister  of  the  First  Church  commonly  doing  arduous 
and  unremunerated  duty  at  the  bellows.  The  sacrifice 
lasted  a  painful  hour.  There  was  no  enthusiasm  among 
the  brethren  for  the  honor  of  court  preacher.  Substitutes 
were  eagerly  sought,  and  volunteers  were  rare.  It  was 
long  since  a  sinner  had  been  awakened  on  Thursday  fore 
noon  :  the  sinners  had  ceased  to  expect  awakening,  and 
staid  away.  None  came  but  saints,  and  these  came  not 
with  jubilant  feet. 

It  was  another  scene  when  Theodore  Parker  spoke. 
The  pews,  above  and  below,  were  crowded  early.  The 
tardy  comers  had  to  stand  in  any  spot  they  could  find ; 
the  pulpit  stairs  were  occupied ;  the  volunteer  singers 
had  not  even  their  "  loft "  to  themselves.  Strangers  who 
had  scarcely  heard  of  the  Thursday  Lecture  were  there : 
the  old  habitu'es  did  not  know  the  place.  The  venerable 
old  ladies  were  in  the  minority.  Scent-bottles  were  un 
called  for.  The  preacher's  theme  was,  "The  Relation 
of  Jesus  to  his  Age  and  the  Ages."  It  was  not  a  great 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  215 

sermon;  it  was  loose,  rhetorical,  and  unsatisfactory  in 
almost  all  respects  :  but  it  was  glowing,  earnest,  sweep 
ing,  with  immense  rush,  the  negative  aspects  of  it  com 
pletely  hidden  behind  the  gorgeous  ascriptions  of  praise 
to  Jesus.  The  audience  listened  with  various  emotions. 
Simple  and  straightforward  though  the  sermon  was,  it 
stirred  the  most  opposite  feelings,  and  provoked  the  most 
discordant  comment.  It  was  printed ;  but  even  then  the 
disputation  over  it  did  not  cease.  Theodore  Parker  had 
made,  perhaps,  the  most  kindling  affirmative  statement 
about  Jesus  that  had  ever  been  made  from  that  pulpit ;  and 
yet  his  making  it  there  was  construed  as  a  new  offence, 
that  must  not  on  any  account  be  repeated.  The  discus 
sions  were  warm.  To  expel  Mr.  Parker  from  the  Asso 
ciation  was  a  step  that  could  not  be  ventured ;  and  he 
declined  to  withdraw.  At  length,  after  many  revolvings 
and  resolvings,  a  device  was  hit  on.  The  minister  of  the 
First  Church  still  held  the  matter  in  his  hands.  Origi 
nally,  it  was  his  lecture :  at  his  invitation  only,  others 
shared  with  him  the  privilege  of  delivering  it.  He  had 
now  but  to  fall  back  on  first  principles,  to  return  to  the 
original  arrangement,  cancel  the  invitations  which  had 
been  so  long  out  that  they  were  held  to  be  rights,  issue 
new  ones  to  the  proper  men,  —  omitting  the  wrong  man 
from  the  list,  —  and  the  knot  was  cut.  The  minister  of 
the  First  Church,  acting  on  the  hint,  took  the  matter  into 
his  own  hands,  summoned  all  but  Mr.  Parker  to  his  side, 
and  the  "  stream  of  tendency  "  was  so  far  checked.  The 
device  was  ingenious,  but  not  handsome.  The  ungodly 
called  it  a  trick.  The  divine  powers  did  not  think  it 
noble ;  for,  not  long  after,  "  the  great  and  Thursday  Lec 
ture  "  was  discontinued. 

Precisely  one  month  after  the  lecture,  Rev.  James  Free 
man  Clarke,  pastor  of  the  Church  of  the  Disciples  in  Bos 
ton,  against  the  wishes  of  his  chief  parishioners,  —  two  of 
whom,  Benjamin  H.  Greene  and  John  A.  Andrew,  called 


2i6  THEODORE  PARKER. 

on  Mr.  Parker  to  represent  the  feeling,  having  in  vain  re 
monstrated  with  Mr.  Clarke,  —  after  giving  due  notice  to 
his  people  the  Sunday  before,  exchanged  pulpits  with  Mr. 
Parker,  disavowing  all  sympathy  with  his  heresies,  but 
performing  what  he  considered  a  duty  of  Christian  fel 
lowship.  The  hall,  Masonic  Temple,  was  crowded,  not 
withstanding  that  some  of  the  regular  congregation  staid 
piously  away.  Mr.  Parker  brought  the  most  innocent 
sermon  he  had,  a  very  innocent  sermon  indeed,  on  "  The 
Excellence  of  Goodness."  It  ought  to  have  satisfied 
the  most  timid  people  that  he  was  not  dangerous  ;  but  it 
did  not.  There  was  a  secession  from  the  Church  of 
the  Disciples  in  the  direction  of  Rev.  R.  C.  Waterston, 
the  minister  of  Pitts-street  Chapel,  as  Mr.  Sargent  had 
been  of  Suffolk-street.  Mr.  Waterston,  in  a  long  letter 
disapproving  of  Mr.  Sargent's  course,  had  thrown  himself 
into  the  current  of  the  popular  sentiment,  which  took  him 
from  his  humble  mission-chapel,  and  bore  him  to  a  hand 
some  stone  church  in  Bedford  Street.  But  the  under-cur 
rent  was  with  Mr.  Parker,  after  all.  The  tide  soon  began 
to  ebb :  the  new  society,  having  no  special  ground  of 
being,  diminished  and  disappeared. 

The  reformer  was  now  practically  excluded  from  the 
churches  of  Boston :  the  pulpits,  one  and  all,  were  closed 
against  him  with  an  emphasis  like  that  of  the  slamming 
of  doors.  At  this  juncture  a  company  of  gentlemen  met 
on  Jan.  22,  1845,  and  passed  a  single  resolution, — 

"  That  the  Rev.  Theodore  Parker  shall  have  a  chance  to  be 
heard  in  Boston." 

A  commodious  hall  was  obtained,  —  the  Melodeon.  It 
occupied  the  ground  now  covered  by  the  Boston  Theatre ; 
and  on  Feb.  16  —  a  cold,  wintry  day,  the  air  thick  with  bit 
ter  rain,  the  streets  full  of  snow  —  the  ministry  in  Boston 
was  begun,  with  much  misgiving  on  his  part,  with  san 
guine  expectation  on  the  part  of  his  friends,  who  saw  the 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  217 

gold  drop  into  the  crucible,  and  remembered  the  text 
which  prophesied  the  fine  result  of  that  process.  But  the 
preacher  had  courage,  if  he  had  distrusts.  In  his  journal 
he  writes,  at  date  Jan.  16,  1845,  "I* pray  God  for  the  per 
manency  of  my  ability.  I  feel  that  I  have  a  great  work 
to  do  :  I  think  I  shall  not  fail  in  it.  I  have  no  fears  for 
myself  ;  but  it  is  a  little  painful  to  see  the  condition  of 
others.  I  would  I  had  the  presence  of  two  men :  then 
would  I  be  two  ministers,  —  one  here,  and  one  in  Boston." 
In  a  letter  to  his  young  friend,  Joseph  Allen,  he  says, 
"  You  say  your  professional  function  is  different  from 
mine.  That  may  be  true  ;  but  mine  has  been,  hitherto,  to 
endeavor  to  lay  the  foundation  of  my  religious  teachings 
so  deep  that  nothing  could  move  or  shake  it.  I  never 
scruple,  nor  ever  will,  to  remove  out  of  my  way  any  rub 
bish  that  I  come  upon,  and  to  declare  the  rubbish  is  one 
thing,  and  the  Rock  of  Ages  a  little  different,  nay,  quite 
another  thing.  I  never  regarded  my  function  as  negative, 
except  in  a  small  degree.  I  would  pull  up  the  weeds,  and 
give  them  to  the  pigs ;  then  plant  the  corn  for  men  and 
pigs  too." 

A  conference  with  a  committee  of  the  Boston  Associa 
tion  of  Ministers  was  fruitless  of  any  good  result.  It  was 
kindly  in  temper,  but  revealed  no  common  ground  of  pro 
fessional  action,  and  closed  even  less  satisfactorily  than 
the  famous  interview  between  Paul  and  the  Judaizing 
apostles  which  the  Romish  Church  dignifies  with  the  name 
of  the  First  Council.  His  feeling  about  the  Unitarians  is 
pungently  expressed  in  the  following  short  extract  from  a 
letter  to  S.  J.  May :  "  The  Unitarians  are  getting  shock 
ingly  bigoted  and  little.  Their  late  meetings  were  windy. 
They  went  to  ventilate  their  narrowness.  Yet  how  con 
temptible  must  be  a  sect  who  only  deny  the  divinity  of 
Christ,  —  affirming  a  denial,  —  their  life  the  development 
of  a  negation !  Anniversary-week  had  painfully  little  of 
the  Charming;  much  of  the  Norton,  bating  his  scholar* 
19 


218  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ship ;    more    of    the  ,  —  specious,   superficial,   and 

worldly.  The  Universalists  are  more  humane  than  we : 
they  declare  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and  do  not  stick  at 
the  consequences,  —  everlasting  happiness  for  all  men.  I 
think  they  are  the  most  humane  sect  in  the  land.  They 
had  an  address  on  temperance,  one  on  slavery,  one  on 
war,  delivered  before  their  ministers  on  anniversary-week. 
Think  of  that,  we  whose  '  mission  it  is  to  be  silent  about 
slavery,'  and  I  suppose  about  war,  intemperance,  and  all 
other  sins  that  everybody  has  a  mind  to  !  Do  tell  the 
youngsters  to  be  men,  —  not  merely  dawdling  ministers, 

with  no  more than  a  pack  of  cards.     They  never  will 

ask  me  to  preach  to  them,  and  I  hope  they  won't ;  but 
I  rejoice  in  your  opportunity  to  teach  them  how  to  love 
the  unlovely,  and  to  overcome  evil  with  good." 

The  advent  to  Boston  was  signalized  by  the  following 
letter,  which  effectually  terminated  a  long  discussion,  and 
with  it  Mr.  Parker's  connection  with  the  Unitarians.  If 
he  expected  a  formal  reply  to  it,  he  was  disappointed.  But 
probably  he  intended  it  only  as  a  published  manifesto  on 
his  own  part,  which  might  or  might  not  call  forth  a  coun 
ter-manifesto  from  the  opposite  party,  but  which,  whether 
it  did  or  not,  would  remain  a  standing  challenge  to  the 
churches.  Such  it  was,  indeed,  —  a  challenge  that  has 
never  been  fairly  accepted. 

A     LETTER     TO     THE     BOSTON     ASSOCIATION     OF     CONGREGA 
TIONAL  MINISTERS    TOUCHING     CERTAIN    MATTERS     OF 
THEIR  THEOLOGY. 

GENTLEMEN,  —  The  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  last  few 
years  have  placed  both  you  and  me  in  new  relations  to  the 
public  and  to  one  another.  Your  recent  actions  constrain  me 
to  write  you  this  public  letter,  that  all  may  the  more  fully  un 
derstand  the  matter  at  issue  between  us,  and  the  course  you 
design  to  pursue.  You  are  a  portion  of  the  Unitarian  body, 
and  your  opinions  and  conduct  will  no  doubt  have  some  influ- 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  219 

ence  upon  that  body.  You  have,  I  am  told,  at  great  length, 
and  in  several  consecutive  meetings,  discussed  the  subject  of 
my  connection  with  your  reverend  body.  You  have  debated 
the  matter,  whether  you  should  expel  me  for  heresy  ;  and  by  a 
circuitous  movement,  recently  made,  have  actually  excluded  me 
from  preaching  the  Thursday  Lecture.  I  do  not  call  in  ques 
tion  your  motives  ;  for  it  is  not  my  office  to  judge  you :  neither 
do  I  now  complain  of  your  conduct,  public  or  private,  towards 
me  during  the  last  three  years.  That  has  been  various.  Some 
members  of  your  Association  have  uniformly  treated  me  with 
the  courtesy  common  amongst  gentlemen  ;  some  also  with  the 
civilities  that  are  usual  amongst  ministers  of  the  same  denom1- 
nation.  Towards  some  of  your  number  I  entertain  an  affec 
tionate  gratitude  for  the  good  words  I  have  heard  from  their 
lips  in  my  youth.  I  feel  a  great  regard  for  some  of  you,  on  ac 
count  of  their  noble  and  Christian  characters,  —  virtuous,  self- 
denying,  pious,  and  without  bigotry.  I  cherish  no  unkind  feel 
ing  towards  the  rest  of  you  :  towards  none  of  you  do  I  feel 
ill-will  on  account  of  what  has  passed.  I  have  treated  my  op 
ponents  with  a  forbearance,  which,  I  think,  has  not  always  been 
sufficiently  appreciated  by  such  as  have  had  the  chief  benefit 
of  that  forbearance.  However,  I  hope  never  to  be  driven, 
either  by  abuse  from  an  opponent  or  by  the  treachery  of  a  pre 
tended  friend,  to  depart  from  the  course  of  forbearance  which 
I  have  hitherto  and  uniformly  pursued.  But  since  you  have 
practically  taken  so  decided  a  stand,  and  have  so  frequently 
discussed  me  and  my  affairs  among  yourselves,  and  have  at 
last  made  your  movement,  I  think  it  important  that  the  public 
should  have  a  distinct  knowledge  of  your  theological  position. 
I  am  searching  for  truth,  however  humbly  ;  and  I  suppose  that 
you  are  as  desirous  of  imparting  to  others  as  of  receiving  from 
Heaven.  Therefore  I  shall  proceed  to  ask  you  certain  ques 
tions  a  good  deal  talked  of  at  the  present  day,  to  which  I  ven 
ture  to  ask  a  distinct  and  categorical  reply.  But,  by  way  of 
preliminary,  I  will  first  refresh  your  memory  with  a  few  facts. 

Until  recently,  the  Unitarians  have  been  supposed  to  form 
the  advance  guard,  so  to  say,  of  the  Church  militant ;  at  least, 
they  have  actually  been  the  movement-party  in  theology.  It  may 
hurt  the  feelings  of  some  men  now  to  confess  it ;  but  I  think  it 
is  true.  As  such,  the  Unitarians  have  done  a  great  work.  As 


220  THEODORE  PARKER. 

I  understand  the  matter,  this  work  was  in  part  intellectual;  for 
they  really  advanced  theological  science,  both  negatively  by  the 
exposure  of  errors,  and  positively  by  the  establishment  of 
truths :  but  in  greater  part  moral;  for  they  declared,  either 
directly  or  by  implication,  the  right  of  each  man  to  investigate  for 
himself  in  matters  pertaining  to  religion  ;  and  his  right  also  to 
the  Christian  name  if  he  claimed  it,  and  by  his  character  seemed 
to  deserve  it.  They  called  themselves  "liberal"  Christians,  and 
seemed  to  consider  that  he  was  the  best  Christian  who  was 
most  like  Christ  in  character  and  life  ;  thus  making  religion  the 
essential  of  Christianity,  and  leaving  each  man  to  determine  his 
own  theology.  They  began  their  history  by  a  denial  of  the 
Trinity,  —  a  doctrine  very  dear  to  the  Christian  Church,  of  very 
ancient  standing  therein,  common  alike  to  Catholics  and  Prot 
estants  ;  a  doctrine  for  centuries  regarded  as  essential  to  the 
Christian  scheme ;  the  fundamental  dogma  of  Christianity.  For 
this  denial  they  encountered  the  usual  fate  of  the  movement- 
party  :  they  were  denied  Christian  fellowship,  and  got  a  bad 
name,  which  they  keep  even  now.  I  am  told  that  they  are  still 
called  "  infidels  "  by  the  Trinitarian  leaders ;  and  that,  you  know, 
gentlemen,  is  a  term  of  great  reproach  in  the  theological  world. 
It  has  been  asserted,  I  think,  in  some  Orthodox  journal,  that 
the  lamented  Dr.  Channing  —  whose  name  is  now,  perhaps, 
praised  by  your  Association  oftener  than  his  example  is  fol 
lowed  —  undoubtedly  went  to  hell  for  his  sin  in  denying  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  the  Infinite  God.  Gentlemen,  these 
things  happened  not  a  great  many  years  ago.  I  do  not  wonder 
at  the  treatment  the  Unitarians  have  received,  and  still  receive, 
where  they  are  not  numerous  and  powerful :  for  the  Trinitari 
ans  maintain  that  no  one  can  be  saved  without  a  belief  in  cer 
tain  doctrines  of  their  theology ;  which  very  doctrines  the 
Unitarians  stoutly  denied,  and  in  public  too.  The  Orthodox 
were  consistent  in  what  the  Unitarians  then  regarded  as  perse 
cution,  and,  I  doubt  not,  would  have  used  the  old  arguments,  — 
fagots  and  the  axe,  —  had  not  the  laws  of  the  land  rendered  it 
quite  impossible  to  resort  to  this  ultimate  standard  of  theologi 
cal  appeal,  which  had  been  a  favorite  with  many  of  the  clergy 
for  more  than  fourteen  centuries.  The  Unitarians  complained 
of  that  treatment  as  not  altogether  Christian. 

But  now,  gentlemen,  it  seems  to  me  that  some  of  you  are 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  221 

pursuing  the  same  course  you  once  complained  of ;  and,  if  I 
rightly  apprehend  the  theology  of  your  learned  body,  — of  which, 
however,  I  am  not  quite  sure,  —  without  the  same  consistency, 
having  no  warrant  therefor  in  your  theological  system.  I  say 
nothing  of  your  motives  in  all  this  ;  nothing  of  the  spirit  in 
which  some  of  you  have  acted.  That  matter  is  beyond  my 
reach  :  to  your  own  master  you  stand  or  fall.  In  1841  I 
preached  a  sermon  at  South  Boston  at  an  ordination.  That 
was  soon  attacked  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fairchild,  and  numerous 
other  clergymen  of  several  denominations  equally  zealous  for 
the  Christian  faith.  Since  that  time,  most  of  you  have  refused 
me  the  ministerial  courtesies  commonly  shown  to  the  ministers 
of  the  same  denomination.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  I  think  these 
courtesies  are  not,  in  all  denominations,  withheld  when  one  of 
the  parties  has  a  moral  reputation  that  is  at  least  ambiguous. 
Only  five  of  your  number,  I  believe,  have  since  exchanged  with 
me  ;  though  comparatively  but  few  members  of  other  Unitarian 
associations  have  departed  from  their  former  course.  I  do  not 
complain  of  this  :  I  simply  state  the  fact. 

Now,  gentlemen,  there  is  one  matter  on  which  you  will 
allow  me  to  pause  a  moment.  The  Fraternity  of  Churches  is,  I 
suppose  virtually,  though  not  formally,  under  the  direction  of 
certain  members  of  your  Association.  Now,  that  Fraternity 
has  virtually  expelled  from  his  office  a  minister  engaged  in  a 
noble  and  Christian  work,  and  performing  that  work  with  rare 
ability  and  success.  You  have  thus  expelled  him  from  his 
place  simply  because  he  extended  ministerial  fellowship  to  me 
in  common  with  ministers  of  several  other  denominations.  The 
case  of  Mr.  Sargent  is  peculiar,  and  I  must  dwell  a  moment  on 
a  few  particulars  respecting  it.  If  I  rightly  remember,  his 
family  contributed  largely  to  the  erection  and  embellishment  of 
the  chapel  out  of  which  he  is  expelled.  He  has  himself  spent 
freely  his  own  property  for  the  poor  under  his  charge,  and  has 
been  untiring  in  his  labors.  No  shadow  of  reproach  attaches  to 
his  name.  He  is  above  suspicion  of  immorality ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  is  distinguished  beyond  his  fellows  by  the  excellence 
of  his  character  and  the  nobleness  of  his  life.  A  righteous  and 
a  self-denying  man,  he  went  out  into  the  lanes  and  highways  of 
Boston  gathering  together  the  poor  and  the  forsaken,  and 
formed  a  society  which  prospered  under  his  ministry,  and  be- 
19* 


222  THEODORE  PARKER. 

came  strongly  attached  to  him.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  some  of 
you  have  seen  fit,  knowing  all  these  circumstances,  by  demand 
ing  of  him  a  pledge  that  he  would  never  exchange  with  me,  to 
drive  away  from  the  field  of  his  labors  and  the  arms  of  his 
parish  this  noble  man,  solely  because  he  extended  the  usual 
ministerial  fellowship  to  me  ;  and  yet  I  still  continue  a  member 
of  your  Association !  I  think  he  has  never  been  accused, 
perhaps  not  suspected,  of  preaching  in  his  pulpit,  or  even 
believing  in  his  study,  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  my  own  the 
ology,  which  are  so  obnoxious  to  some  of  you,  and  apparently 
reckoned  worse  than  a  grave  moral  offence.  It  may  be  said 
that  Mr.  Sargent  was  minister  over  a  vassal  chzirch,  and  the  Fra 
ternity  were  his  feudal  superiors;  and  this  seems  to  be  true. 
You  will  say,  furthermore,  that  the  Boston  Association,  as  a 
whole,  is  not  responsible  for  the  acts  of  the  Fraternity ;  and  this 
is  doubtless  the  case :  but,  as  I  think  some  of  its  members  are 
accountable,  to  them  let  the  above  remarks  apply.  I  pass  to 
another  matter. 

The  Unitarians  have  no  recognized  and  public  creed.  It 
used  to  be  their  glory.  At  the  Theological  School  in  Cambridge 
I  subscribed  to  no  symbolical  books ;  at  my  ordination  I 
assented  to  no  form  of  doctrines,  neither  church  nor  council 
requesting  it.  When  I  became  a  member  of  your  learned  body, 
no  one  asked  me  of  my  opinions,  whether  orthodox  or  hetero 
dox  :  no  one  even  demanded  a  promise  that  I  should  never 
change  an  opinion  or  discover  a  new  truth  !  I  know  well,  gen 
tlemen,  that  I  differ,  and  that  very  widely,  from  the  systems  of 
theology  which  are  taught,  and  from  the  philosophy  which 
underlies  these  systems.  I  have  no  wish  to  disguise  my  theol 
ogy,  or  to  shelter  it  beneath  th«  authority  of  your  Association  : 
let  it  stand  or  fall  by  itself.  But  still  I  do  not  know  that  I 
have  transgressed  the  limits  of  Unitarianism ;  for  I  do  not 
know  what  those  limits  are.  It  is  a  great  glory  to  a  liberal 
association  to  have  no  Symbolical  Books,  but  a  great  inconveni 
ence  that  a  sect  becoming  exclusive  should  not  declare  its  creed. 
I  cannot  utter  the  shibboleth  of  a  party  till  I  first  hear  it  pro 
nounced  in  the  orthodox  way.  I  shall  presently  proceed  to  beg 
you  to  point  out  the  limits  of  scientific  freedom,  and  tell  the 
maximum  of  theological  belief  which  distinguishes  you  from 
the  "orthodox"  on  the  one  side,  and  the  minimum  thereof 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  223 

which  distinguishes  you  from  the  "  infidels "  on  the  other 
side. 

Gentlemen,  you  refuse  me  fellowship  ;  you  discuss  the  ques 
tion,  whether  you  shall  expel  me  from  your  Association ;  and  you 
actually,  though  indirectly,  prohibit  me,  as  I  understand  it,  from 
preaching  "  the  great  and  Thursday  Lecture."  Gentlemen,  I  wish 
to  know  distinctly  the  ground  you  take  in  this  matter.  It  is  not 
altogether  plain  why  you  put  yourselves  in  your  peculiar  atti 
tude  towards  me.  Mr.  Sargent  is  expelled  for  granting  me 
ministerial  fellowship.  He  was  an  accessory  after  the  fact  in 
my  alleged  heresies,  and  being  but  a  vassal  of  the  Fraternity, 
and  therefore  within  their  power,  is  punished,  while  the  principal 
of  the  mischief  is  allowed  to  go  unscathed  ;  and  other  clergymen 
who  exchange  with  me,  but  have  no  feudal  lords,  retain  their 
places  as  before.  Here  the  issue  is  obvious  ;  and  Mr.  Sargent  is 
expelled  from  his  pulpit  for  positive  misprision  of  heresy,  if  I 
may  make  use  of  such  a  term.  Of  course  the  same  doctrine 
excludes  him  from  his  pulpit  and  the  Association.  But  I  am 
told  that  Mr.  Pierpont  was  quite  as  effectually  excluded  from 
the  actual  fellowship  of  your  Association  as  even  myself ;  for, 
while  three  of  the  city  members  of  your  Association  have  contin 
ued  to  extend  ministerial  fellowship  to  me,  —  Mr.  Pierpont,  Mr. 
Sargent,  and  Mr.  Clarke,  —  only  three,  —  Mr.  Gannett,  Mr.  Sar 
gent,  and  Mr.  Clarke,  —  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  have  extended 
that  fellowship  to  him  since  the  time  of  the  famed  Hollis-street 
Council !  Yet  I  think  he  is  guilty  of  no  heresy,  —  theological 
and  speculative  heresy  I  mean  ;  for,  in  practical  affairs,  it  is  well 
known  that  his  course  is  the  opposite  of  that  pursued  by  most 
of  his  brethren  in  the  city. 

Still  more  :  at  a  conference  I  had  with  the  Association  a 
little  more  than  two  years  ago,  the  chairman  of  the  Association 
—  the  Rev.  Dr.  Parkman  —  declared  that  my  main  offence 
was  not  my  theological  heresies :  they  would  have  been  for 
given  and  forgot,  had  it  not  been  for  an  article  I  published  on  the 
Hollis-street  Council  (printed  in  "The  Dial"  for  October,  1842), 
in  which,  as  he  alleged,  I  "poured  scorn  and  contempt  upon 
the  brethren."  Yet  others  charge  me  with  heresies,  and  on 
account  thereof,  I  am  told,  actually  deny  my  right  to  Christian 
fellowship  from  them,  and  even  my  title  to  the  Christian  name. 

In  this  intricate    confusion,  gentlemen,  you  will    probably 


224  THEODORE  PARKER. 

see  the  necessity  of  saying  a  word  to  put  all  things  in  a  fair 
light,  that  I  may  know  on  what  point  you  and  I  are  really  at 
issue.  Notwithstanding  the  remarks  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Parkman, 
I  am  still  inclined  to  the  belief  that  the  charge  of  heresy  is  the 
main  charge  ;  and  as  you  have  had  the  field  of  controversy  en 
tirely  to  yourselves  these  several  years,  and  as  yet  have  not,  as  a 
body,  made  a  public  and  authorized  statement  of  your  theologi 
cal  belief,  I  must  beg  you  to  inform  me  what  is  orthodoxy  accord 
ing  to  the  Boston  Association.  The  orthodoxy  of  the  Catholic 
Church  I  know  very  well ;  I  am  not  wholly  ignorant  of  what  is 
called  orthodox  by  the  Lutheran  and  Calvinistic  churches  :  but  the 
ORTHODOXY  of  the  Boston  Association  of  Congregational  Min 
isters  is  not  a  thing  so  easy  to  come  at.  As  I  try  to  compre 
hend  it,  I  feel  I  am  looking  at  something  dim  and  undefined. 
It  changes  color,  and  it  changes  shape  :  now  it  seems  a  moun 
tain  ;  then  it  appears  like  a  cloud.  You  will  excuse  me,  gentle 
men  ;  but,  though  I  have  been  more  than  seven  years  a  member 
of  your  reverend  body,  I  do  not  altogether  comprehend  your 
theology,  nor  know  what  is  orthodox.  You  will  do  a  great  ser 
vice  if  you  will  publish  your  Symbolical  Books,  and  let  the 
world  know  what  is  the  true  doctrine  according  to  the  Boston 
Association  of  Congregational  Ministers.  I  have  defined  my 
own  position  as  well  as  I  could,  and  will  presently  beg  you  to 
reply,  distinctly,  categorically,  and  unequivocally,  to  the  follow 
ing  questions.  Gentlemen,  you  are  theologians  ;  men  of  leisure 
and  learning;  mighty  in  the  Scriptures.  Some  of  you  have 
grown  gray  in  teaching  the  world  ;  most  of  you,  I  think,  make 
no  scruple  of  passing  judgment,  public  and  private,  on  my  opin 
ions  and  myself.  It  is  therefore  to  be  supposed  that  you  have 
examined  things  at  large,  and  been  curious  in  particulars  ;  have 
searched  into  the  mysteries  of  things,  deciding  what  is  true, 
what  false,  what  Christian,  and  what  not ;  and  so  have  deter 
mined  on  a  standard  of  doctrines  which  is  to  you  well  known, 
accessible,  and  acknowledged  by  all.  Some  of  you  can  sling 
stones  at  a  hair's-breadth  in  the  arena  of  theology.  You  are 
many,  and  I  am  standing  alone.  Of  course  I  shall  take  it  for 
granted  that  you  have,  each  and  all,  thoroughly,  carefully,  and 
profoundly  examined  the  matters  at  issue  between  us  ;  that  you 
have  made  up  your  minds  thereon,  and  are  all  entirely  agreed  in 
your  conclusions,  and  that  on  all  points  :  for  surely  it  were  not 


THE   CONFLICT  RENEWED. 


225 


charitable  to  suppose,  without  good  and  sufficient  proof,  that  a 
body  of  Christian  ministers  —  conscientious  men,  learned,  and 
aware  of  the  difficulties  of  the  case  —  would  censure  and  virtu 
ally  condemn  one  of  their  number  for  heresy,  unless  they  had 
made  personal  investigation  of  the  whole  matter,  had  themselves 
agreed  on  their  standard  of  orthodoxy,  and  were  quite  ready  to 
place  that  standard  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  people.  I  beg 
that  this  standard  of  Unitarian  orthodoxy,  as  it  is  agreed  upon 
and  established  by  the  authority  of  the  Boston  Association,  may 
be  set  before  my  eyes  and  those  of  the  public  at  the  same  time  ; 
and  therefore,  gentlemen,  I  propose  to  you  the  following 

QUESTIONS. 

Class  I.  —  Scholastic  questions  relating  to  the  definition  of 
terms  frequently  used  in  theology  :  — 

1.  What  do  you  mean  by  the  word  "  salvation  "  ? 

2.  What  do  you  mean  by  a  "  miracle  "  ? 

3.  What  do  you  mean  by  "  inspiration  "  ? 

4.  What  do  you  mean  by  "  revelation  "  ? 

Class  II.  — Dogmatic  questions  relating  to  certain  doctrines 
of  theology  :  — 

5.  In  questions  of  theology,  to  what  shall  a  man  appeal  ?  and 
what  is  the  criterion  whereby  he  is  to  test  theological,  moral, 
and  religious  doctrines  ?    Are  there  limits  to  theological  inquiry  ? 
and  if  so,  what  are  those  limits  ?     Is  truth  to  be  accepted  be 
cause  it  is  true,  and  right  to  be  followed  because  it  is  right, 
or  for  some  other  reason  ? 

6.  What  are  the  conditions  of  salvation,  both  theoretical  and 
practical  ?  and  how  are  they  known  ? 

7.  What  do  you  consider  the  essential  doctrines  of  Christian 
ity  ?     What  moral  and  religious  truth  is  taught  by  Christianity 
that  was  wholly  unknown  to  the  human  race  before  the  time  of 
Christ  ?  and  is  there  any  doctrine  of  Christianity  that  is  not  a 
part  also  of  natural  religion  ? 

8.  Do  you  believe  all  the  books  in  the  Bible  came  from  the 
persons  to  whom  they  are,  in  our  common  version  thereof, 
ascribed  ?  or  what  are  genuine  and  canonical  Scriptures  ? 

9.  Do  you  believe  that  all  or  any  of  the  authors  of  the  Old 
Testament  were  miraculously  inspired,  so  that  all  or  any  of  their 
language  can  properly  be  called  the  Word  of  God,  and  their 


226  THEODORE  PARKER. 

writings  constitute  a  miraculous  revelation  ?  or  are  those  writ 
ings  to  be  judged  of,  as  other  writings,  by  their  own  merits,  and 
so  made  to  pass  for  what  they  are  worth  ?  In  short,  what  is  the 
authority  of  the  Old  Testament  ?  and  what  relation  does  it  bear 
to  man, — that  of  master,  or  servant  ? 

10.  Do  you  believe  the  law  contained  in. the  Pentateuch,  in 
all  parts  and  particulars,  is  miraculously  inspired  or  revealed  to 
man  ?  or  is  it,  like  the  laws  of  Massachusetts,  a  human  work  in 
whole  or  in  part  ? 

11.  Do  you  believe  the  miracles  related  in  the  Old  Testa 
ment  ? — for  example,  that  God  appeared  in  a  human  form,  spoke 
in  human  speech,  walked  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  ate  and  drank  ; 
that  he  commanded  Abraham  to  sacrifice  Isaac,  and  made  the 
verbal  declarations  so  often  attributed  to  him  in  the  Old  and 
New  Testament ;  that  Moses  spoke  with  him  "  as  a  man  speak- 
eth  with  his  friend ;  "  that  the  miracles  alleged  to  have  been 
wrought  for  the  sake  of  the  Hebrews  in  Egypt,  the  Red  Sea, 
Arabia,  and  Palestine,  and  recorded  in  the  Bible,  were  actual 
facts  ;  that  the  births  of  Isaac,  Samson,  and  Samuel,  were  mirac 
ulous  ;  that  Balaam's  ass  spoke  the  Hebrew  words  put  into  his 
mouth  ;  that  God  did  miraculously  give  to  Moses,  and  others 
mentioned  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  commands  there  ascribed 
to  him  ;  that  the  sun  stood  still  as  related  in  the  Book  of  Joshua  ; 
that  Jonah  was  swallowed  by  a  large  fish,  and,  while  within  the 
fish,  composed  the  ode  ascribed  to  him  ?    And  do  you  believe  all 
the  miracles  related  in  the  Books  of  Daniel,  Job,  and  elsewhere 
in  the  Old  Testament  ? 

12.  Do  you  believe  that  any  prophet  of  the  Old  Testament, 
solely  through  a  miraculous  revelation  made  to  him  by  God,  did 
distinctly  and  unequivocally  foretell  any  distant  and  future  event 
which  has  since  come  to  pass  ?  and,  in  special,  that  any  prophet 
of  the  Old  Testament  did  thereby,  and  in  manner  aforesaid,  dis 
tinctly  and  equivocally  foretell  the  birth,  life,  sufferings,  death, 
and  resurrection  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  so  that  Jesus  was,  in  the 
proper  and  exclusive  sense  of  the  word,  the  Messiah  predicted 
by  the  prophets,  and  expected  by  the  Jews  ? 

13.  What  do  you  think  is  the  meaning  of  the  phrase,  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord,"  with  its  kindred  expressions,  in  the  Old  Testa 
ment  ? 

14.  Do  you  believe  that  all  or  any  of  the  authors  of  the  Ne\v 


THE   CONFLICT  RENEWED.  227 

Testament  were  miraculously  inspired,  so  that  all  or  any  of  their 
language  can  properly  be  called  the  Word  of  God,  and  that  their 
writings  constitute  a  miraculous  revelation  ?  or  are  those  writings 
to  be  judged  of,  as  other  writings,  by  their  own  merits,  and  so 
made  to  pass  for  what  they  are  worth  ?  In  short,  what  is  the 
authority  of  the  New  Testament  ?  and  what  relation  does  it  bear 
to  man,  —  that  of  master,  or  servant  ? 

15.  Do  you  believe  the  Christian  apostles  were  miraculously 
inspired  to  teach,  write,  or  act,  with  such  a  mode,  kind,  or  degree 
of  inspiration  as  is  not  granted  by  God,  in  all  time,  to  other  men 
equally  wise,  moral,  and  pious  ?    Do  you  think  the  apostles  were 
so  informed  by  miraculous  inspiration  as   never  to  need  the 
exercise  of  the  common  faculties  of  man,  and  never  to  fall  into 
any  errors  of  fact  and  doctrine  ?   or  are  we  to  suppose  that  the 
apostles  were  mistaken  in  their  announcement  of  the   speedy 
destruction  of  the  world,  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  &c. 

1 6.  What  do  you  think  is  the  nature  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ? 
Was  he  God,  man,  or  a  being  neither  God  nor  man  ?    And  how 
does  he  effect  the  salvation  of  mankind  ?     In  what  sense  is  he 
the  Saviour,  Mediator,  and  Redeemer  ? 

17.  Do  you  believe  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  miraculously 
born,  as  it  is  related  in  two  of  the  Gospels,  with  but  one  human 
parent :  that  he  was  tempted  by  the  Devil,  and  transfigured,  talking 
actually  with  Moses  and  Elias  ;  that  he  actually  transformed  the 
substance  of  water  into  the  substance  of  wine  ;  fed  five  thou 
sand  men  with  five  loaves  and  two  fishes  ;  that  he  walked  on  the 
waters  ;  miraculously  stilled  a  tempest ;  sent  demons  out  of  men 
into  a  herd  of  swine  ;  and  that  he  restored  to  life  persons  wholly 
and  entirely  dead  ? 

1 8.  Do  you  believe  that  Jesus  had  a  miraculous  and  infallible 
inspiration  different  in  kind  or  mode  from  that  granted  to  other 
wise,  good,  and  pious  men,  informing  him  to   such   a  degree 
that  he  never  made  a  mistake  in  matters  pertaining  to  religion, 
to  theology,  to  philosophy,  or  to  any  other  department  of  human 
concern  ;  and  that  therefore  he  teaches  with  an  authority  supe 
rior  to  reason,  conscience,  and  the  religious  sentiment  in  the 
individual  man  ? 

19.  Do  you  believe  that  it  is  impossible  for  God  to  create  a 
being  with  the  same  moral  and  religious  excellence  that  Jesus 
had,  but  also  with  more  and  greater  intellectual  and  other  facul- 


228  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ties,  and  send  him  into  the  world  as  a  man  ?  or  has  Jesus 
exhausted  either  or  both  the  capacity  of  man,  or  the  capability 
of  God? 

20.  Do  you  believe,  that,  from  a  state  of  entire  and  perfect 
death,  Jesus  returned  to  a  state  of  entire  and  perfect  physical 
life  ;  that  he  did  all  the  works  and  uttered  all  the  words  attrib 
uted  to  him  in  the  concluding  parts  of  the  Gospels   after  his 
resurrection  ;  and  was  subsequently  taken  up  into  heaven  bodily 
and  visibly,  as  mentioned  in  the  book  of  Acts  ? 

21.  Do  you  believe,  that,  at  the  death  of  Jesus,  the  earth 
quaked,  the  rocks  were  rent ;   that  darkness  prevailed  over  the 
land  for  three  hours  ;   that  the  graves  were  opened,  and  many 
bodies  of  saints  that  slept  arose  and  appeared  to  many  ? 

22.  Do  you  believe  that  Jesus,  or  any  of  the  writers  of  the 
New  Testament,  believed  in  and  taught  the  existence  of  a  per 
sonal  Devil,  of  angels  good  or  bad,  of  demons  who  possessed 
the  bodies  of  men  ?  and  do  you  yourselves  believe  the  existence 
of  a  personal  Devil,  of  such  angels  and  demons  ?     In  special,  do 
you  believe  that  the  angel  Gabriel  appeared  to  Zacharias  and  to 
the  Virgin  Mary,  and  uttered  exactly  those  words  ascribed  to 
him  in  the  third  Gospel  ? 

23.  Do  you  believe  that  the  writers  of  the  four  Gospels  and 
the  book  of  Acts  never  mingled  mythical,  poetical,  or  legendary 
matter  in  their  compositions  ;  that  they  never  made  a  mistake  in 
a  matter  of  fact ;  and  that  they  have,  in  all  cases,  reported  the 
words  and  actions  of  Jesus  with  entire  and  perfect  accuracy  ? 

24.  Do  you  believe  the  miracles  related  in  the  book  of  Acts  ? 
—  for  example,  the  miraculous  inspiration  of  the  apostles  at 
Pentecost ;  the  cures  effected  by  Peter,  his  vision,  his  miracu 
lous  deliverance  from  prison  "by  the  angel  of  the  Lord  ;  "  the 
miraculous  death  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira;  the  miraculous  con 
version  of  Paul ;  that  diseased  persons  were  cured  by  handker 
chiefs  and  aprons  brought  to  them  from  Paul ;  and  that  he  and 
Stephen  actually,  and  with  the  body's  eye,  saw  Jesus  Christ,  an 
actual  object  exterior  to  themselves  ? 

25.  Do  you  believe  that  Peter,  in  the  Acts,  correctly  explains 
certain  passages  of  the  Old  Testament  as  referring  to  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  his  sufferings,  death,  and  resurrection  ;  that  Jesus 
himself,  — if  the  Gospels  truly  represent  his  words, — in  all  cases, 
applies  the  language  of  the  Old  Testament  to  himself,  in  its 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  229 

proper  and  legitimate  meaning  ?    Was  he  never  mistaken  in  this 
matter  ?  or  have  the  passages   of  the   Old  Testament  many 


meanings 


26.  Do  you  think  that  a  belief  in  the  miraculous  inspiration 
of  all  or  any  of  the  writers  of  the  Old  Testament  or  New  Testa 
ment  ;  that  a  belief  in  all  or  any  of  the  miracles  therein  men 
tioned  ;  that  a  belief  in  the  miraculous  birth,  life,  resurrection, 
and  ascension  of  Jesus  ;  that  a  belief  in  his  miraculous,  univer 
sal,  and  infallible  inspiration,  —  is  essential  to  a  perfect  Christian 
character,  to  salvation  and  acceptance  with  God,  or  even  to  par 
ticipation  in  the  Christian  name  ?  and  if  so,  what  doctrine  of 
morality  or  religion  really  and  necessarily  rests,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  on  such  a  belief  ? 

27.  Do  you  believe  that  the  two  ordinances  —  Baptism  and 
the  Lord's  Supper  —  are,  in  themselves,  essential,  necessary,  and 
of  primary  importance  as  ends,  valuable  for  their  own  sakes  ?  or 
that  they  are  helps  and  means  for  the  formation  of  the  Christian 
character,  and  therefore  valuable  only  so  far  as  they  help  to  form 
that  character  ? 

28.  Do  you  think  it  wrong  or  unchristian  in  another  to  aban 
don  and  expose  what  he  deems  a  popular  error,  or  to  embrace  and 
proclaim  an  unpopular  truth  ?    Do  you  count  yourselves,  theoret 
ically,  to  have  attained  all  religious  and  theological  truth,  and  to 
have  retained  no  error  in  your  own  creed,  so  that  it  is  wholly 
unnecessary  for  you,  on  the  one  hand,  to  re-examine  your  own 
opinions,  or,  on  the  other,  to  search  farther  for  light  and  truth  ? 
or  do  you  think  yourselves  competent,  without  such  search  or 
such  examination,  to  pronounce  a  man  an  infidel,  and  no  Chris 
tian,  solely  because  he  believes  many  things  in  theology  which 
you  reject,  and  rejects  some  things  which  you  believe  ? 

Gentlemen,  you  have  yourselves  constrained  me  to  write  this 
letter.  I  write  to  you  in  this  open  way  ;  for  I  wish  that  the  pub 
lic  may  understand  your  opinions  as  well  as  my  own.  I  beg  you 
will  give  your  serious  attention  to  the  above  questions,  and 
return  me  a  public  answer,  not  circuitously,  but  in  a  straightfor 
ward,  manly  way,  and  at  your  earliest  convenience.  I  have  at 
various  times,  as  distinctly  as  possible,  set  forth  my  own  views ; 
and  as  you  have  publicly  placed  yourselves  in  a  hostile  atti 
tude  to  me,  as  some  of  you  have  done  all  in  their  power  to  dis 
own  me,  and  as  they  have  done  this  partly  on  account  of  my 


230  THEODORE  PARKER. 

alleged  heresies,  it  is  but  due  to  yourselves  to  open  the  gospel 
according  to  the  Boston  Association,  give  the  public  an  opportu 
nity  to  take  the  length  and  breadth  of  your  standard  of  Unita 
rian  orthodoxy,  and  tell  us  all  what  you  really  think  on  the 
points  above  mentioned.  Then  you  and  I  shall  know  in  what 
we  differ  :  there  will  be  a  clear  field  before  us  ;  and,  if  we  are 
doomed  to  contend,  we  shall  not  fight  in  the  dark.  I  have 
invited  your  learned  attention  to  matters  on  which  it  is  supposed 
that  you  have  inquired  and  made  up  your  mind,  and  that  you  are 
entirely  agreed  among  yourselves,  and  yet  that  you  differ  most 
widely  from  me.  I  have  not,  however,  touched  the  great  philo 
sophical  questions  which  lie  at  the  bottom  of  all  theology, 
because  I  do  not  understand  that  you  have  yourselves  raised 
these  questions,  or  consciously  and  distinctly  joined  issue  upon 
them  with  me.  Gentlemen,  you  are  men  of  leisure,  and  I  am 
busied  with  numerous  cares  ;  you  are  safe  in  your  multitude 
of  council,  while  I  have  comparatively  none  to  advise  with.  But 
notwithstanding  these  advantages,  so  eminently  on  your  side,  I 
have  not  feared  to  descend  into  the  arena,  and,  looking  only  for 
the  truth,  to  write  you  this  letter.  I  shall  pause,  impatient  for 
your  reply  ;  and  with  hearty  wishes  for  your  continued  prosper 
ity,  your  increased  usefulness,  and  growth  alike  in  all  Christian 
virtues  and  every  manly  grace,  I  remain,  gentlemen, 
Your  obedient  servant, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 
WEST  ROXBURY,  March  20,  1845. 

Mr.  Parker's  arrangement  with  his  Boston  friends  con 
templated  a  Sunday-morning  service  at  the  Melodeon  for 
a  year;  the  pulpit  at  West  Roxbury  being  temporarily 
filled  by  substitutes,  he  still  having  his  residence  there, 
and  maintaining  pastoral  relations  with  the  people.  The 
Boston  preaching  was  regarded  as  an  experiment ;  but  it 
was  so  prosperous,  that,  before  the  year  had  elapsed,  a 
permanent  settlement  was  decided  on  and  effected.  On 
the  1 3th  of  December,  1845,  an  invitation  from  the  Bos 
ton  Society  to  become  their  minister  was  accepted.  On 
the  3d  of  January,  1846,  the  position  at  West  Roxbury 
was  resigned  in  a  tenderly-worded  letter,  and  the  new  re- 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  231 

lation  taken  up.  Signal  success  had  attended  the  preach 
ing  at  the  Melodeon.  The  hall  was  filled  every  Sunday 
morning  with  earnest  listeners,  humble  people  in  the  main, 
but  intelligent,  eager,  determined ;  who  came  for  spiritual 
food,  and  were  sure  to  get  it.  They  flocked  together,  indi 
vidual  men  and  women,  from  the  four  corners  of  the  eccle 
siastical  world  :  some  from  the  "  outer  darkness  "  of  the 
world  non-ecclesiastical.  The  circles  of  fashion  were  not 
largely  represented ;  but  the  thoughtful,  sensitive,  and 
humane  were  there  in  numbers.  The  seekers,  doubters, 
reformers,  were  conspicuously  present.  It  was  such  an 
audience  as  the  preacher  liked.  It  made  him  feel  that 
his  office  was  no  sinecure,  his  work  no  child's  play,  but  a 
battle  ;  but  it  made  him  feel,  too,  that  he  was  surrounded 
by  fellow-laborers  and  fellow-soldiers.  The  attraction 
and  the  inspiration  were  mutual.  The  people  looked  up 
to  the  preacher  ;  the  preacher  looked  into  the  faces  of  the 
people  ;  and  both  were  cheered. 

The  installation  took  place  on  Jan.  4,  1846,  according 
to  the  strictest  congregational  usage,  the  society  them 
selves  taking  the  pastor  of  their  choice.  The  ceremony 
was  of  the  simplest.  There  was  no  charge,  the  minister's 
good  conscience  being  deemed  sufficient  pledge  of  his 
fidelity ;  no  address  to  the  people,  they  having  already 
listened  to  the  voice  of  their  own  heart,  and  being  dis 
posed  to  follow  it ;  no  right  hand  of  fellowship,  a  hundred 
hands  with  souls  in  them  being  outstretched  to  give  the 
pastor  welcome.  The  minister  preached  his  own  sermon, 
and  prayed  his  own  prayer :  none  could  do  it  better. 
The  chairman  of  the  committee  made  a  short  statement 
of  the  measures  taken  in  founding  the  society,  and  calling 
Mr.  Parker  :  then  the  "exercises"  went  on.  The  preacher 
announced  as  the  subject  of  his  sermon,  "  The  Idea  of  a 
Christian  Church."  Let  us  catch  at  least  the  spirit  of  it ; 
for  it  struck  the  key-note  of  his  subsequent  ministry.  He 
took  no  text,  but  began  as  if  he  meant  business,  and  had 
.10  more  than  time  enough  for  it. 


232  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  Church  was  defined  as  "  a  body  of  men  and  women 
united  together  in  a  common  desire  of  religious  excellence, 
and  with  a  common  regard  for  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  regard 
ing  him  as  the  noblest  example  of  morality  and  religion." 
"  Its  essential  of  substance  is  the  union  for  the  purpose 
of  cultivating  love  to  God  and  man ;  and  the  essential  of 
form  is  the  common  regard  for  Jesus,  considered  as  the 
highest  representation  of  God  that  we  know."  "It  is  not 
the  form,  either  of  ritual  or  of  doctrine,  but  the  spirit, 
which  constitutes  a  Christian  church.  Christianity,  to  be 
perfect  and  entire,  demands  a  complete  manliness,  —  the 
bravest  development  of  the  whole  man,  mind,  heart,  and 
soul.  It  aims  not  to  destroy  the  sacred  peculiarities  of 
individual  character :  it  cherishes  and  develops  them  in 
their  perfection."  "A  Christian  church  should  aim  to 
have  its  members  Christians  as  Jesus  was  the  Christ,  sons 
of  man  as  he  was,  sons  of  God  as  much  as  he."  "  If 
Jesus  were  ever  mistaken,  —  as  the  evangelists  make  it 
appear,  —  then  it  is  a  part  of  Christianity  to  avoid  his 
mistakes,  as  well  as  to  accept  his  truths."  "  It  is  Christian 
to  receive  all  the  truths  of  the  Bible  ;  all  the  truths  that  are 
not  in  the  Bible  just  as  much.  It  is  Christian  also  to 
reject  all  the  errors  that  come  to  us  from  without  the  Bible 
or  from  within  the  Bible."  "  It  is  only  free  men  that  can 
find  the  truth,  love  the  truth,  live  the  truth.  As  much 
freedom  as  you  shut  out,  so  much  falsehood  do  you  shut 
in."  "  To  think  truth  is  the  worship  of  the  head  ;  to  do 
noble  works  of  usefulness  and  charity  is  the  worship  of 
the  will ;  to  feel  love  and  trust  in  man  and  God  is  the 
glad  worship  of  the  heart."  "Christianity  should  be 
represented  as  human,  as  man's  nature  in  its  true  great 
ness."  "  The  members  of  a  Christian  church  should  be 
mindful  of  one  another ;  they  should  bear  one  another's 
burdens  ;  they  should  advise  and  admonish  one  another : 
the  strong  should  help  the  weak,  the  rich  the  poor." 

"  The  Christian  Church  should  have  an  action  on  others 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  233 

out  of  its  pale  •  should  live  to  see  its  truths  extend ; 
should  be  a  means  of  reforming  the  world  after  the  pattern 
of  Christian  ideas;  should  bring  the  sentiments,  ideas, 
actions  of  the  times  to  be  judged  by  the  universal  stan 
dard  ;  should  measure  the  sins  of  commerce,  the  sins  of  the 
State,  by  conscience  and  reason,  by  the  everlasting  ideas 
on  which  alone  is  based  the  welfare  of  the  world.  A 
Christian  church  should  be  a  society  for  the  promotion  of 
true  sentiments  and  ideas,  for  the  promotion  of  good  works. 
It  should  lead  the  movement  for  the  public  education  of 
the  people." 

"Here  are  the  needy,  who  ask  for  justice  more  than 
charity.  Every  beggar,  every  pauper,  condemns  our  civili 
zation.  Whence  come  the  tenants  of  our  almshouses, 
jails,  the  victims  of  vice  in  all  our  towns?  Why,  from 
the  lowest  ranks  of  the  people,  from  the  poorest  and  most 
ignorant ;  say,  rather,  from  the  most  neglected.  What 
have  the  strong  been  doing  all  this  while,  that  the  weak 
have  come  to  such  a  state  ? " 

"  Does  not  Christianity  say  the  strong  should  help  the 
weakl  Does  not  that  mean  something?  Every  alms- 
house  in  Massachusetts  shows  that  the  churches  have  not 
done  their  duty;  that  the  Christians  lie  lies  when  they 
call  Jesus  Master,  and  men  brothers.  Every  jail  is  a 
monument,  on  which  it  is  writ  in  letters  of  iron  that  we  are 
still  heathens :  and  the  gallows,  black  and  hideous,  the 
embodiment  of  death,  the  last  argument  a  *  Christian ' 
State  offers  to  the  poor  wretches  it  trained  up  to  be  crimi 
nals, —  it  stands  there  as  a  sign  of  our  infamy;  and,  while  it 
lifts  its  horrid  arm  to  crush  the  life  out  of  some  miserable 
man  whose  blood  cries  to  God  against  Cain  in  the  nine-, 
teenth  century,  it  lifts  the  same  arm  as  an  index  of  our 
shame."  "  Is  that  all  ?  Oh,  no !  Did  not  Jesus  say, 
1  Resist  not  evil  with  evil '  ?  Is  not  war  the  worst  form  of 
that  evil  ?  and  is  there  on  earth  a  nation  so  greedy  of 
war,  a  nation  so  reckless  of  provoking  it,  one  where  the 

20* 


234  THEODORE  PARKER. 

war-horse  so  soon  conducts  his  foolish  rider  into  fame 
and  power  ?  Is  that  all  ?  Far  from  it.  Did  not  Christ 
say, '  Whatsoever  you  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you, 
do  you  even  so  unto  them '  ?  And  are  there  not  three 
million  brothers  of  yours  and  mine  in  bondage  here,  the 
hopeless  sufferers  of  a  savage  doom,  debarred  the  civili 
zation  of  our  age,  the  barbarians  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury,  shut  out  from  the  pretended  religion  of  Christendom, 
the  heathens  of  a  Christian  land,  the  slaves  of  a  Chris 
tian  republic  ?  The  Rock  of  Plymouth,  sanctified  by  the 
feet  which  led  a  nation's  way  to  Freedom's  large  estate, 
provokes  no  more  voice  than  the  rottenest  stone  in  the 
mountains  of  the  West.  The  Church  is  dumb,  while  the 
State  is  only  silent.  While  the  servants  of  the  people  are 
only  asleep,  '  God's  ministers '  are  dead." 

"  In  the  midst  of  all  these  wrongs  and  sins,  amid  popu 
lar  ignorance,  pauperism,  crime  and  war,  and  slavery  too, 
is  the  Church  to  say  nothing,  do  nothing,  nothing  for  the 
good  of  such  as  feel  the  wrong,  nothing  to  save  them  who 
do  the  wrong  ?  If  I  thought  so,  I  would  never  enter  the 
Church  but  once  again,  and  then  to  bow  my  shoulders  to 
their  manliest  work,  —  to  heave  down  its  strong  pillars, 
arch  and  dome  and  roof  and  wall,  steeple  and  tower, 
though,  like  Samson,  I  buried  myself  under  the  ruins  of  that 
temple  which  profaned  the  worship  of  God  most  high,  of 
God  most  loved.  I  would  do  this  in  the  name  of  man ; 
in  the  name  of  Christ  I  would  do  it ;  yes,  in  the  dear 
and  blessed  name  of  God." 

"The  Christian  Church  should  lead  the  civilization  of 
the  age.  It  will  be  in  unison  with  all  science  ;  it  will  not 
fear  philosophy ;  it  will  not  lack  new  truth,  daring  only  to 
quote  ;  nor  be  obliged  to  sneak  behind  the  inspired  words 
of  old  saints  as  its  only  fortress,  for  it  will  have  words 
just  as  truly  inspired,  dropping  from  the  golden  mouths 
of  saints  and  prophets  now.  A  church  truly  Christian 
must  lead  the  way  in  moral  enterprises,  in  every  work 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  235 

which  aims  directly  at  the  welfare  of  man.  There  was  a 
time  when  the  Christian  churches,  as  a  whole,  held  that 
rank.  Do  they  now  ?  Oh,  no  !  —  not  even  the  Quakers, 
perhaps  the  last  sect  that  abandoned  it.  A  prophet  rilled 
with  love  of  man  and  love  of  God  is  not  therein  at  home. 
I  speak  a  sad  truth,  and  I  say  it  in  sorrow.  But  look  at 
the  churches  of  this  city :  do  they  lead  the  Christian 
movements  of  this  city,  —  the  temperance-movement ;  the 
peace-movement ;  the  movement  for  the  freedom  of  man, 
for  education ;  the  movement  to  make  society  more  just, 
more  wise  and  good;  the  great  religious  movement  of 
these  times  ?  Not  at  all." 

"  Christianity  is  humanity.  Christ  is  the  son  of  man, 
the  manliest  of  men ;  pious  and  hopeful  as  a  prayer,  but 
brave  as  man's  most  daring  thought.  He  has  led  the 
world  in  morals  and  religion  for  eighteen  hundred  years, 
only  because  he  was  the  manliest  man  in  it,  the  humanest 
and  bravest  man  in  it,  and  therefore  the  divinest.  He 
may  lead  it  eighteen  hundred  years  more.  But  the 
churches  do  not  lead  men  therein ;  for  they  have  not  his 
spirit,  —  neither  that  womanliness  that  wept  over  Jerusa 
lem,  nor  that  manliness  that  drew  down  fire  from  heaven  to 
light  the  world's  altars  for  well-nigh  two  thousand  years." 

"  There  are  many  ways  in  which  Christ  may  be  denied : 
one  is  that  of  the  bold  blasphemer,  who,  out  of  a  base 
and  haughty  heart,  mocks,  scoffing  at  that  manly  man,  and 
spits  upon  the  nobleness  of  Christ.  There  are  few  such 
deniers  :  my  heart  mourns  for  them.  But  they  do  little 
harm.  Religion  is  so  dear  to  men,  no  scoffing  word  can 
silence  that ;  and  the  brave  soul  of  this  young  Nazarene 
has  made  itself  so  deeply  felt,  that  scorn  and  mockery  of 
him  are  but  an  icicle  held  up  against  the  summer's  sun. 
There  is  another  way  to  deny  him ;  and  that  is  to  call  him 
Lord,  and  never  do  his  bidding ;  to  stifle  free  minds  with 
his  words  j  and,  with  the  authority  of  his  name,  to  cloak,  to 
mantle,  screen,  and  consecrate  the  follies,  errors,  sins,  of 
men.  From  this  we  have  much  to  fear." 


236  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  In  our  day,  men  have  made  great  advances  in  science, 
commerce,  manufactures,  in  all  the  arts  of  life.  We  need, 
therefore,  a  development  of  religion  corresponding  thereto. 
Let  us  have  a  church  in  which  religion,  goodness  towards 
men,  piety  towards  God,  shall  be  the  main  thing.  Let  us 
have  a  degree  of  that  suited  to  the  growth  and  demands 
of  this  age.  Its  prayers  will  be  a  lifting-up  of  the  hearts 
in  noble  men  towards  God,  in  search  of  truth,  goodness, 
piety.  Its  sacraments  will  be  great  works  of  reform,  in 
stitutions  for  the  comfort  and  culture  of  men.  If  men 
were  to  engage  in  religion  as  in  commerce,  politics,  arts  ; 
if  the  absolute  religion,  the  Christianity  of  Christ,  were  ap 
plied  to  life  with  all  the  might  of  this  age,  —  what  a  result 
should  we  not  behold  !  We  should  build  up  a  great  State, 
with  unity  in  the  nation,  and  freedom  in  the  people  ;  a 
State  where  there  was  honorable  work  for  every  hand, 
bread  for  all  mouths,  clothing  for  all  backs,  culture  for 
every  mind,  and  love  and  faith  in  every  heart.  Truth 
would  be  our  sermon ;  works  of  daily  duty  would  be  our 
sacrament.  Prophets  inspired  of  God  would  minister  the 
Word,  and  Piety  send  up  her  psalm  of  prayer,  sweet  in  its 
notes,  and  joyfully  prolonged.  The  noblest  monument  to 
Christ,  the  fairest  trophy  of  religion,  is  a  noble  people, 
where  all  are  well  fed  and  clad,  industrious,  free,  edu 
cated,  manly,  pious,  wise,  and  good." 

Brave  words  are  common  in  ordination-sermons,  but  sel 
dom  are  prophetic  of  brave  deeds.  In  this  case  they  were. 
The  minister  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Congregational  Soci 
ety  meant  to  carry  out,  if  possible,  what  he  foreshadowed. 
In  a  letter  to  Joseph  H.  Allen  in  1849  ne  saYs>  "  Our 
church  in  Boston  attend  a  little  to  the  humanities  in  an 
ecclesiastical  sense ;  not  much,  for  we  are  poor.  We  have 
a  Committee  of  Benevolent  Action,  who  are  the  almoners 
of  the  society.  Twice  a  year  we  take  up  a  collection  for 
the  poor.  Once  a  fortnight  the  committee  meet  in  the 
season  from  October  to  May,  and  consult  about  cases,  &c. 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  237 

They  keep  a  record  of  their  doings,  and  are  eminently  use 
ful.  They  finci  places  for  men,  women,  and  children ;  and 
the  blessing  of  such  as  are  ready  to  perish  falls  upon  them. 
Besides  that,  the  members  of  the  society  are  almost  all 
engaged  in  some  of  the  great  reforms ;  e.g.,  antislavery, 
temperance,  prisons,  &c.  But  we  have  no  organized  eccle 
siastical  action  in  these  matters ;  I  wish  we  had :  but  I 
have  not  time  for  all  things  of  that  sort.  I  once  hoped  to 
have  a  committee  on  each  of  these  topics,  to  report  annu 
ally  to  the  society  the  condition  of  each  of  these  reforms. 
Then  such  as  liked  one,  and  not  another,  could  work  in 
their  own  way.  But  perhaps  this  is  better  done  as  it  is ; 
each  man  connecting  himself  as  he  sees  fit,  without  any 
ecclesiastical  organization  about  it."  The  Sunday  school 
was  not  successful,  although  he  always  attended  personally, 
and  talked  pleasantly  to  the  children,  telling  them  a  story 
or  a  parable.  Sunday  schools  rarely  prosper  in  cities; 
never,  probably,  in  intelligent  congregations  that  choose  to 
teach  their  own  children,  and  improve  their  Sunday  lei 
sure  in  their  own  way.  The  Saturday-afternoon  class 
for  young  women  did  better.  The  women  manifested  even 
an  unusual  desire  to  be  considered  young :  mothers  and 
daughters  sat  side  by  side  like  sisters.  The  minister  ex 
cluded  none.  He  wanted  the  minds,  not  the  years.  He 
welcomed  all  to  the  best  he  had,  and  introduced  all  to  the 
best  they  had  themselves,  with  singular  skill  and  delicacy 
drawing  them  out  to  speak.  He  found,  on  trial,  that  the 
least  severe  and  systematical  method  was  the  best ;  but 
he  never  allowed  the  conversation  to  run  into  gossip  or 
inane  generalities.  The  subjects  were  large  and  various, 
but  were  made  pointed  and  kept  vital  by  the  pastor's 
watchful  mind,  which  made  every  question  keen,  and 
every  answer  pertinent.  The  tone  of  seriousness  was  never 
lost.  "  Mr.  Parker,"  said  one  of  the  less  astute  and  sensi 
tive  of  the  company,  "  what  is  that  feeling  which  makes 
one  person  so  devoted  to  another  that  she  will  cling  to 


238  THEODORE  PARKER. 

him  through  every  thing,  even  drunkenness  ?  "  —  "I  cannot 
tell  you"  —  "  But  you  believe  in  it ;  do  you  ngt  ? "  —  "Indeed 
Ido"  He  took  great  pleasure  in  these  meetings  ;  was  at 
much  pains  to  be  present ;  and  would  hurry  home  from  lec 
turing  expeditions  in  order  not  to  miss  them.  They  were 
continued  for  several  years,  and  covered  important  fields 
of  thought,  ethical,  social,  and  religious.  The  question  of 
education  in  its  varying  aspects  occupied  a  whole  winter ; 
the  capacities  and  duties  of  women  came  in  for  their  share 
of  consideration ;  right  habits  of  reading  and  listening  were 
inculcated ;  the  importance  of  thoroughness  and  exactness 
was  urged  on  the  young  in  regard  to  their  mental  opera 
tions  ;  the  influence  of  sickness,  misfortune,  calamity,  on 
character,  were  subjects  discussed. 

The  public  Sunday-afternoon  discussions  proved  unman 
ageable  through  the  presence  of  the  arch-fiend  who  goes 
about  in  the  plausible  guise  of  prophet,  reformer,  or  saint, 
and  lifts  up  a  shrill,  inopportune  voice,  to  the  discomfit 
ure  of  chairman  and  listeners.  He  is  deaf  to  argument 
and  entreaty.  The  voice  of  the  presiding  officer  has  no 
subduing  spell.  The  policeman  alone  is  potent  to  expel 
the  intruder;  but  the  apostle  of  the  free  spirit  stultifies 
himself  by  an  appeal  to  force,  and  Mr.  Parker  was  com 
pelled  to  retire  to  private  quarters. 

To  organize  a  society  in  a  city  is  never  easy.  There 
are  too  many  occupations  ;  the  workers  are  all  overworked 
in  other  ways ;  the  parish  method  is  loose  and  slow ; 
things  worth  doing  are  best  done  in  detail,  by  individuals 
active  in  their  own  places  ;  the  main  direction  and  impulse 
come  from  the  minister,  who  feels  it  to  be  an  encumbrance 
and  a  waste  of  effort ;  the  machinery  is  out  of  all  propor 
tion  to  the  achievement;  the  ropes  creak,  the  pulleys 
groan.  The  best-intentioned  pastor  confesses  at  length 
that  the  effort  of  combining  the  various  elements  of  his 
society  for  social  purposes  is  more  exhausting  than  profit 
able.  If  anybody  could  make  such  operations  successful, 


THE  CONFLICT  RENEWED.  239 

Theodore  Parker  could;  but  he  boasted  of  no  triumph. 
He  was  invited  to  Boston  as  a  preacher.  The  public 
were  interested  in  his  theological  opinions.  His  friends 
wanted  his  thought  on  religious  themes.  His  battle  with 
the  churches  had  made  him  famous.  The  hall  was  opened 
as  an  arena  for  intellectual  conflict,  not  as  a  room  for 
conference-meetings,  or  an  apartment  for  a  Sunday  school. 
He  might  be  a  pastor  in  many  ways,  a  teacher  in  private  as 
much  as  he  would ;  but  before  the  world  he  stood  as  a 
prophet,  the  inaugurator  of  a  new  religious  movement,  the 
preacher  of  a  new  reform,  in  the  line  of  Luther's,  but 
deeper. 

The  society  was  not  rich.  Radicalism  and  riches  have 
not  yet  formed  alliance  :  a  generation  ago,  the  connection 
was  exceedingly  loose.  The  following  note  tells  a  story 
common  enough  on  one  side,  not  so  common  on  the 
other :  — 

BOSTON,  Oct.  30,  1847. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  Last  Sunday  I  learned  that  the  financial 
condition  of  our  society  was  neither  prosperous  nor  hopeful ; 
indeed,  that  we  are  four  hundred  dollars  in  debt.  I  think  I 
can  help  you  a  little  in  this  difficulty,  though  not  much  of  a 
business-man  ;  and  accordingly  I  propose,  that,  for  the  year 
1848,  my  salary  should  be,  not  two  thousand  dollars,  but  six 
teen  hundred.  I  can  easily  make  up  the  other  four  hundred 
dollars  by  some  other  labor,  and  then  the  church  will  not  be 
burthened.  I  beg  you  to  present  this  proposal  to  the  rest  of 
the  committee  as  one  cheerfully  made  on  my  part,  at  the  same 
time  asking  them  not  to  mention  it  to  other  members  of  the 
society. 

Believe  me,  dear  sir,  truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  the  Treasurer  of  the  28th  Congregational  Society. 

This  might  have  been  the  first,  but  it  was  not  the  last 
time  that  the  devoted  minister  took  less  than  was  offered. 
The  clerical  calling  is  rarely  lucrative.  With  him  it  was 


240  THEODORE  PARKER. 

impoverishing;  for  it  cost  him  a  good  deal  more  than  it 
brought  him,  even  in  money.  Had  he  been  a  hireling 
priest,  he  would  have  kept  nearer  the  flesh-pots.  But  the 
Master  he  followed  rated  hireling  shepherds  among  thieves 
and  robbers. 

This  chapter  may  close  with  the  well-known  sonnet, 
which  presents  the  standard  he  aimed  at,  and  conveys  the 
spirit  in  which  he  meant  to  labor :  — 

"  Dear  Jesus,  were  thy  spirit  now  on  earth, 
Where  thou  hast  toiled  and  wept  a  world  to  win, 
What  vast  ideas  would  sudden  come  to  birth  ! 
What  strong  endeavors  'gainst  o'ermastering  sin  ! 
Thy  blest  beatitudes  again  thou'dst  speak  ; 
And,  with  deep-hearted  words  that  smite  like  fire, 
Wouldst  thou  rebuke  the  oppressors  of  the  weak. 
But,  turning  thence  to  prophets  that  aspire, 
How  wouldst  thou  cheer  the  souls  that  seek  to  save 
Their  brothers  smarting  'neath  a  despot's  rod  ; 
To  lift  the  poor,  the  fallen,  and  the  slave, 
And  lead  them  all  alive  to  worship  God  ! 
Bigots  wouldst  thou  refuse  that  hindering  stand, 
But  send  thy  gospel-fraught  apostles  conquering  through  the 
land." 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   PASTOR. 

IN  January,  1847,  Mr.  Parker  removed  from  West  Rox- 
bury,  where  he  had  been  living  till  now,  to  Boston.  A 
house  in  Exeter  Place  —  a  little  court,  so  near  to  Essex 
Street  that  his  yard  was  adjacent  to  that  of  his  friend 
Wendell  Phillips  —  was  provided  for  him.  The  upper 
floor  was  thrown  into  one  room  for  a  library.  In  this  house 
he  lived  till  his  last  sickness  took  him  away:  there  his 
widow  resides  still,  though  the  quiet  of  the  spot  is  invaded 
by  business.  The  household  consisted  of  himself  and  his 
wife,  "  whose  domestic  name  is  Bear,  or  Bearsie,  and  who, 
as  usual,  is  nearly  the  opposite  of  her  husband,  except  in 
the  matter  of  philanthropy ;"  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Cabot,  one  and  twenty  years  old,  an  orphan,  brought  up 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker  from  childhood,  and  treated  by 
them  as  a  sort  of  nephew ;  and  Miss  Stevenson,  "  a  woman 
of  fine  talents  and  culture,  interested  in  all  the  literatures 
and  humanities."  The  entire  house  was  given  to  hospi 
tality.  The  table  always  looked  as  if  it  expected  guests. 
The  parlors  had  the  air  of  talking-places,  well  arranged 
and  habitually  used  for  the  purpose.  The  spare  bed  was 
always  ready  for  an  occupant,  and  often  had  a  friendles.^ 
wanderer  from  a  foreign  shore.  The  library  was  a  confes 
sional  as  well  as  a  study :  this  room,  airy,  light,  and  pleas 
ant,  was  lined  with  books  in  plain  cases,  unprotected 
by  obtrusive  glass.  Books  occupied  capacious  stands  in 

21  241 


242  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the  centre  of  the  apartment;  books  were  piled  on  the 
desk  and  floor.  There  was  but  one  table,  —  a  writing-table, 
with  drawers  and  extension-leaves,  of  the  common  office- 
pattern.  A  Parian  head  of  the  Christ,  and  a  bronze  statue 
of  Spartacus,  ornamented  the  ledge  :  sundry  emblematical 
bears,  in  fanciful  shapes  of  wood  or  metal,  assisted  in  its 
decoration.  The  writer  sat  in  a  cane  chair  :  a  sofa  close 
by  was  for  visitors.  A  vase  of  flowers  usually  stood  near 
the  bust  of  Jesus.  Flowers  were  in  the  southern  windows, 
placed  there  by  gentle  hands,  and  faithfully  tended  by 
himself.  Two  ivy-plants,  representative  of  two  sisters, 
intwined  their  arms  and  mingled  their  leaves  at  the  win 
dow-frames.  Every  morning  he  watered  them,  and  trained 
their  growing  tendrils. 

Mr.  Parker's  feeling  for  flowers  was  as  delicate  as  his 
knowledge  of  them.  In  the  country  they  were  his  com 
panions,  in  the  city  his  joy.  He  would  never  allow  his 
flowers  to  be  thrown  away  because  they  were  faded.  The 
drooping  or  shrivelled  petals  falling  off  to  give  place  to 
the  seed-vessel  were  as  beautiful  to  him  in  idea  as  the 
unfolding  or  ripened  bud.  Standing  one  day  in  his  draw 
ing-room  at  a  table  covered  with  the  earliest  spring-flowers, 
—  flowers  which  bloomed  in  his  parlor  simultaneously  with 
their  unfolding  in  the  sheltered  nook  of  field  or  wood,  — 
a  lady  took  up  a  bunch  of  hepaticas,  saying  it  was  one  of 
her  favorites.  "Why?"  he  asked:  "it  has  no  perfume." 
"  But  think  where  it  grows,"  she  replied  :  "  out  of  the  dead 
leaves  of  the  past  year."  He  started  a  little  ;  an  emotion 
passed  over  his  face :  but  he  said  nothing.  The  hepatica 
had  a  deeper  root  in  his  affection  after  that.  A  vase  of 
flowers  stood  on  his  pulpit,  —  the  wild  flowers  in  their  sea 
son,  cultivated  flowers  always, — placed  there  by  friends  in 
the  parish.  Their  beauty  and  fragrance  crept  into  sermon 
and  prayer.  Having  thus  served  in  the  worship  of  the 
morning,  they  went  in  the  afternoon  to  the  chambers  of 
the  sorrowing  and  the  sick  to  fulfil  the  other  divine  duty 


THE  PASTOR.  243 

of  love.  His  love  for  the  wild  flowers  was  almost  a  pas 
sion  :  he  watched  for  their  annual  return,  and  knew  where, 
for  miles  around,  he  should  find  their  first  blooming. 
Every  year  he  went  to  Lexington  to  gather  the  earliest 
violets  on  his  mother's  grave.  In  plucking  wild  flowers, 
he  always  refrained  from  taking  many  from  one  locality, 
lest  he  should  injure  the  future  growth  j  and  there  were 
friends  of  his  to  whom  he  would  not  betray  the  haunts  he 
well  knew  of  some  of  the  shyest  kinds,  lest  they  should 
exercise  on  them  their  propensity  for  gathering  a  great 
quantity.  He  appreciated  the  gift  of  flowers.  The  friend 
who  had  always  been  responsible  for  those  on  the  pulpit 
sent  to  New  York,  when  he  was  to  sail  thence  for  Havana, 
an  order  for  a  bouquet  to  be  placed  in  his  stateroom. 
From  Nassau,  where  the  steamer  touched  for  a  few  hours, 
he  sent  back  to  her  a  pencilled  note,  enclosing  a  Nassau 
rose  :  — 

"  Next  week  I  hope  to  hear  the  whippoorwill,  and  see  bobo 
link  ;  to  walk  to  my  old  haunts  in  the  woods,  and  gather  my  old 
and  favorite  flowers,  —  the  arethusa,  side-saddle,  and  lady ' s-slip- 
per,  not  forgetting  the  little  dear  polygalla.  Dear  me,  how  much 
the  woods  and  meadows  of  Spring  Street  have  been  to  me  ! 
Well,  let  me  learn  yet  more.  Thou,  Father,  art  nearer  me  in 
the  woods,  the  field's,  than  elsewhere.  I  see  why  men  need 
their  conferences  and  prayer-meetings  in  the  city,  while  in  the 
country  they  are  an  interruption." 

The  following  sonnet  is  from  the  journal :  — 

TO   ONE  WHO   SENT  ME  FLOWERS   ON   CHRISTMAS   DAY,    AND  I 
KNEW   NOT  WHENCE  THEY   CAME. 

Dear  child  unknown,  there  came  thy  Christmas-flowers, 

A  bloom  exotic  'mid  December's  snow, 

Cheering  my  heart  yet  more  in  these  glad  hours, 

When  nought  abroad  save  piety  dares  blow. 

And  yet,  my  friend,  amid  a  heavier  snow, 

A  sweeter  flower  thyself  hast  been  to  me. 

'Mid  other  storms,  and  in  a  wintrier  woe, 


244  THEODORE  PARKER. 

My  flower-glad  eyes  were  satisfied  with  thee. 

Thy  comfort  brought  into  my  bosom  glee, 

Yea,  confidence  and  trust  thy  look  did  lend, 

When  else  in  vain  I  sought  tranquillity. 

Thus  daughter,  sister,  mother,  wife,  and  friend, 

To  one  long  nursed  in  grief's  perplexity, 
Little  know'st  thou  what  healing  cheer  thy  words  could  send 
DEC.  27,  1849. 

Thus  with  the  humblest  creatures  the  pastorate  began ; 

but  it  did  not  cease  with  them. 

MAY  19,  1848. 

It  has  been  one  of  the  beautiful  days  we  sometimes  have 
in  May.  It  is  summer  come  in  without  ringing  at  the  door. 
The  thermometer  says  90°  in  the  shade ;  yet  all  the  morning 
the  weather  was  perfect.  Oh,  how  bright  the  sky  was  !  and  so 
deep  the  blue  !  Then  the  grass  on  the  Common  was  so  green, 
and  the  children  so  happy,  and  the  dogs  so  delighted  with  their 
swim  in  the  Frog  Pond !  It  did  me  good  to  see  such  a  day.  I 
feel  in  love  with  all  creatures  on  such  a  day :  and  such  as  I 
love  most,  I  feel  quite  tender  to  ;  I  long  for  their  presence. 
For,  when  I  have  any  thing  so  good  as  existence  to-day,  I  want 
to  share  it  with  all  I  love. 

In  the  winters  of  heavy  snow  he  kept  a  little  corn-crib 
in  his  library,  and  regularly  fed  at  the  window-sill  the  city 
pigeons  .deprived  of  their  street-food.  They  soon  found 
where  breakfast  was  to  be  had,  and  flocked  daily  to  the 
window ;  while  he,  with  delight,  watched  them  as  they  cooed 
and  quarrelled,  and  hustled  each  other,  and  sidewise 
nodded  through  the  pane  at  him.  At  table,  in  a  summer 
boarding-place,  a  thoughtless  mother  told  how  merry  her 
little  boy  was  over  a  grasshopper  in  the  kitchen,  which  was 
making  ineffectual  struggles  to  escape  from  a  string  by 
which  she  had  fastened  it  to  the  table  for  the  child's  amuse 
ment.  A  blush  of  indignation  and  pain  passed  over  his 
face  as  she  spoke.  The  next  moment  he  was  out  on  the 
grass,  watching  his  rescued  captive  as  it  skipped  away. 
Friend  he  was  of  the  insect,  and  of  every  thing  else  that 
needed  a  helper. 


THE  PASTOR.  245 

He  was  a  providence  to  fretful  children  in  the  railway- 
cars  with  his  bag  of  sugar-plums,  and  to  elder  children 
without  number.  From  his  eighteenth  year,  says  one  who 
knew  him  well,  there  was  never  a  time  when  he  was  not 
giving  to  some  young  person  the  means  for  education. 
Many  a  youth  struggling  into  college  or  through  it  felt  the 
pressure  of  his  strong  uplifting  arm,  often  without  knowing 
whence  the  help  came.  Those  of  his  parish  in  West  Rox- 
bury  he  stimulated  to  study  by  giving  them  his  precious 
time,  correcting  their  attempts  at  composition  in  the  most 
attractive  way.  "  Don't  write  about  nightingales,  my  child : 
listen  to  the  robin  and  the  blue-bird  in  our  fields."  Young 
girls  without  means  of  obtaining  a  superior  education, 
while  there  were  no  State  normal  schools  within  reach,  re 
ceived  his  instruction,  often  when  his  busy  brain  was  over 
tasked  with  study  and  care.  Nor  did  he  wait  for  their 
application,  but  with  exploring  kindness  sought  out  those 
whom  he  could  help,  and  gave  aid  in  a  spirit  so  brotherly 
that  it  could  not  be  refused.  The  president  of  Harvard 
College  had  a  standing  request  to  let  him  know  of  any 
deserving  youth  whom  a  little  money  would  help.  He 
counted  it  a  privilege  to  pay  the  bills  of  an  incipient 
scholar.  No  devotion  to  his  studies  ever  led  him  to  disre 
gard  an  appeal  for  assistance,  from  whatever  quarter.  He 
never  seemed  to  feel  that  there  he  had  any  rights  which 
man,  woman,  or  child,  black  or  white,  was  bound  to  respect, 
but  voluntarily  tied  himself  hand  and  foot,  and  laid  himself 
smiling  on  the  altar  of  self-sacrifice.  Just  as  he  might  be 
pouring  out  upon  the  paper  the  full  flow  of  his  thoughts,  a 
tap  at  the  library-door,  answered  by  the  ready  "  Come  !  " 
would  bring  in  some  unknown  visitor.  The  pen  was  quietly 
dipped  into  the  sponge-cup ;  the  India  cane-chair  slipped 
round  from  the  desk  to  the  sofa,  where  the  comer  was 
invited  to  sit ;  while  the  genial  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 
uttered  as  quietly  as  if  no  torrent  had  been  checked  in 
its  course,  put  the  two  into  harmonious  relations. 

21* 


246  THEODORE  PARKER. 

And  what  a  multitude  came  to  him  with  their  private 
affairs,  domestic  and  personal !  A  young  Scotchman  with 
a  general  letter  "  to  some  Christian  minister  in  America," 
seeking  employment  in  his  handicraft,  is  told  that  the  man 
most  likely  to  help  him  lives  at  No.  i,  Exeter  Place.  The 
Methodist  minister  from  the  country,  seeking  literary  help, 
receives  it  abundantly.  A  husband  and  a  wife,  each  with 
out  the  other's  knowledge,  come  to  seek  counsel  in  mutual 
estrangement,  and  learn  long  afterwards  whose  wise  advice 
it  was  that  made  them  friends  again.  The  man  of  culture 
and  wealth  who  would  not  be  seen  at  Music  Hall  goes  to 
its  preacher  for  consolation  in  his  hour  of  affliction. 
Young  people  with  noble  aspirations  and  stifling  surround 
ings  look  to  him  for  guidance  to  congenial  activities.  The 
selfish  intruder  with  private  axe  to  grind  ;  the  ripe  scholar, 
wishing  to  verify  a  quotation  from  a  classic ;  the  well-mean 
ing  revivalist,  who  would  pray  with  him  then  and  there  for 
his  immediate  conversion,  and  was  courteously  permitted  to 
try;  the  bully,  who,  believing  himself  aimed  at  in  a  public 
speech,  ascended  the  stairs  breathing  vengeance,  knocked 
at  the  door  with  the  cane  he  intended  using  on  the  person 
of  the  occupant,  but,  forgetting  his  wrath  in  the  calm  pres 
ence,  went  subdued  away ;  the  doctor  of  divinity,  wise  and 
revered,  wanting  to  see  the  man  who  had  done  such  true 
work  in  the  temperance  cause ;  the  young  clergyman  solicit 
ing  his  aid  in  recovering  a  faithless  husband  whose  deso 
lated  wife  was  sure  that  Mr.  Parker  could  reach  the 
delinquent ;  anxious  mothers  seeking  counsel  about  their 
children  from  the  man  whose  lifelong  grief  was  his  child 
lessness  ;  public  men  to  consult  him  on  the  moral  bearings 
of  their  official  action  ;  chairmen  of  committees  needing  a 
skilful  pen  to  write  their  reports  ;  the  fugitive  slave  has 
tening  to  a  way-station,  or  perhaps  a  terminus  of  the  "  un 
derground  railroad ;  "  a  friend,  bringing  the  first  hepatica 
or  the  latest  fringed  gentian  for  the  writing-table ;  a 
little  pet  to  play  an  hour  with  the  toys  in  "  Parkie's  " 


THE  PASTOR.  24* 

bureau,  put  there  for  the  children's  amusement ;  a  Baptist 
clergyman  with  a  polemical  manuscript  to  be  revised  for 
the  press ;  a  young  aspirant  for  literary  fame,  with  verses 
to  be  criticised,  or  a  paper  whose  eager  craving  for  a  mag 
azine  he  was  expected  to  satisfy,  —  these  are  authentic 
cases  of  visitation,  specimens  of  whole  classes  of  visitants, 
against  whom  he  never  shut  the  door.  They  consumed 
the  time,  but  never  seemed  to  exhaust  the  patience,  of  this 
most  hospitable  of  minds.  He  had  enough  of  that  for  the 
maiden's  peevish  complaint,  for  the  enthusiast's  dream  of 
a  new  religion,  for  the  Millerite's  vision  of  the  second 
coming,  and  for  the  fanatic's  howl  over  the  sins  of  society ; 
and,  before  the  infliction  was  at  the  foot  of  the  first  flight 
of  stairs,  the  swift  pen  had  taken  up  the  unfinished  sen 
tence,  and  was  speeding  along  the  page  as  if  there  had 
been  no  pause  in  its  work.  He  was  the  universal  pastor, 
the  shepherd  of  the  forsaken  sheep.  A  company  of 
friends  had  planned  a  journey  to  Dublin,  N.H.,  for  the 
man  overworked  and  sick  ;  but  as  he  sat  at  dinner  on 
Sunday,  the  day  before  the  starting,  a  black  woman,  poor 
of  course,  and  a  stranger,  came  and  asked  him  to  attend 
the  funeral  of  her  child  on  the  Tuesday.  He  let  the  jour 
ney  pass  without  hesitation,  abandoned  it,  and  did  as  the 
suppliant  desired.  He  visited  prisons,  and  comforted  such 
as  were  under  condemnation. 

The  writer  of  this  biography  has  received  fresh  testimo 
nies  to  his  kind  thoughtfulness  ;  the  following,  for  in 
stance,  from  a  young  student,  son  of  his  valued  friend,  S. 
J.  May :  "  Established  in  Cambridge,  he  at  once  extended 
to  me  that  friendship  father  and  mother  valued  so  much, 
and  made  me  familiarly  welcome  in  his  quiet,  pleasant 
home,  and  conscious  that  he  was  watching  over  me  with 
an  unintrusive  fatherly  care.  He  constantly  inquired  as  to 
my  progress  in  study,  discussed  matters  on  which  I  was 
engaged,  and  advised  me  both  in  reference  to  them  and 
to  the  homelier  subjects  of  my  health  and  comfort.  I  can 


248  THEODORE  PARKER. 

hear  him  coming  down  stairs,  with  his  tread  so  firm  yet 
light,  two  steps  at  a  time,  from  his  study,  humming  or 
whistling  some  little  quiet  strain ;  and  then  came  his  hearty 
hand-shake,  and  sweet  smile,  and  cordial  greeting,  in  that 
voice  with  something  suggesting  gruffness,  yet  so  gentle  as 
to  be  musical.  There  was  never  a  kinder  voice. 

"  His  meals  used  always  to  be  exceedingly  simple  and 
light.  But  I  remember,  that,  when  he  discovered  I  had 
planned  a  system  of  diet  too  meagre,  he  remarked  it,  and 
gave  me  good  counsel  in  regard  to  more  generous  food. 
So,  discovering  that  I  was  sleeping,  for  economy's  sake, 
on  a  husk  mattress,  he  stopped  me  one  evening  as  he  was 
going  up  stairs,  thrust  into  my  hand  a  bill,  and  charged 
me  to  go  at  once  and  get  a  hair  mattress.  Every  year, 
knowing  that  my  father's  means  were  small,  he  sent  a 
considerable  check  to  me  to  help  pay  my  college-bills.  I 
believe  he  did  the  same  for  more  than  one  of  the  young 
men  in  college,  whom  he  had  taken  likewise  under  his 
fatherly  care. 

"The  first  Christmas  after  I  entered  college,  I  found  a 
package  waiting  for  me  at  a  friend's  office.  It  contained 
a  costly  dictionary  of  mythology  and  biography,  with  only 
this  line :  '  Dear  Jo,  this  book  is  from  one  who  loves 
your  father  very  much,  and  hopes  to  like  you  equally  well. 
So  be  a  good  boy.' 

"  Of  all  influences  whatever  which  have  tended  to  develop 
in  me  the  religious  sentiment,  the  influence  of  his  charac 
ter,  preaching,  and  prayers,  was  altogether  and  peculiarly 
pre-eminent ;  it  stands  out  in  my  consciousness  distinct 
from  all  others ;  and  it  was  the  influence  of  character,  of 
which  preaching  and  prayers  were  only  the  expression." 

A  young  girl  who  had  listened  to  Mr.  Parker,  being 
about  to  leave  home  alone  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  to 
take  charge  of  a  district-school  in  Pennsylvania,  called 
with  her  father  to  say  good-by,  and  thank  him  for  what  he 
had  done  for  her.  Taking  from  the  table  at  his  elbow  the 


THE  PASTOR.  249 

volume  of  "  Ten  Sermons,"  then  recently  published,  he 
wrote  her  name  with  his  own,  and  his  good  wishes  for  her ; 
then,  with  a  kiss  and  a  blessing,  sent  the  maiden  happy 
away. 

A  young  woman  called  on  the  preacher  to  borrow  a  ser 
mon,  a  passage  whereof  had  pleased  her  especially.  He 
was  not  at  home.  Two  days  afterward,  she  met  him.  He 
had  returned  her  call,  and,  not  finding  her  in,  had  left  a 
book  for  her.  He  now  lent  her  Herbert's  "  Poems,"  which 
he  was  preparing  to  edit.  Subsequently  he  corresponded 
with  her,  sent  books  to  her  into  the  country,  and  gave 
her  the  use  of  his  library  when  she  was  in  the  city,  request 
ing  her  to  send  him  abstracts  and  criticisms  of  the  books 
she  read,  and  descriptions  of  the  people  she  met. 

The  correspondence  with  this  lady,  covering  a  period  of 
eleven  years,  would  make  an  interesting  collection  of  it 
self.  Her  letters  must  have  been  brilliant,  if,  as  he  said 
of  them,  "  They  are  as  good  as  Bettine's  to  Goethe,  with 
out  the  lies." 

The  long  arm  befriended  people  across  the  sea.  The 
refugee  from  Germany  or  Switzerland  saw  his  beckoning 
hand.  The  foreign  scholar  was  indebted  to  him  for  shel 
ter  and  employment.  He  exerted  himself  to  find  publish 
ers  for  unrecognized  works,  and  to  make  good  terms  for 
needy  authors  who  had  no  name.  The  exile  knew  where 
to  come  for  help  of  all  kinds.  Purse,  mind,  heart,  were  all 
open.  He  had  no  theories  that  prevented  him  from 
observing  the  apostolic  precept,  "  Bear  ye  one  another's 
burdens."  The  strong  man  helped  the  weak  in  the  human 
way  until  social  science  should  find  a  better.  Such  notes 
as  the  following  are  not  infrequent  in  the  journal :  — 

ADVENTURES   OF  A  DAY. 

"  After  attending  to  numerous  little  matters  belonging  to  new 
housekeeping,  I  sat  down  to  complete  my  sermon ;  and  there 
came,  — 


250  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  i.  A  black  man  —  a  quite  worthy  one  —  for  some  pecuniary 
aid.  He  is  a  trader  in  new  and  second-hand  clothes.  Borrows 
money  sometimes.  Commonly  pays  one-fourth  of  a  cent  a  day 
on  a  dollar,  —  ninety-one  per  cent  a  year ;  sometimes  one-half  of 
a  cent,  —  equal  to  a  hundred  and  eighty-two  per  cent  a  year.  I 
could  not  help  him,  being  myself  out  of  money ;  but  will  do  what 
I  can. 

"  2.  An  Orthodox  minister  from  Ohio,  seeking  for  aid  to  erect 
a  free  church  in  his  State.  He  wants  five  thousand  dollars. 
He  seems  a  good  man,  pious  in  my  sense  of  the  word,  and 
moral  too.  With  him  was  another  man  from  the  same  place, 
who  said  little. 

"  3.  Came  a  clergyman  to  talk  about  the  Zoroastrian  doctrine 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  to  get  Oporin's  *  De  Immor- 
talitate  Mortalium '  which  I  had  imported  for  him.  Mem.  — 
He  will  have  the  '  Dabistan.' 

"  4.  Silas  Lamson,  with  his  full  beard  and  white  garments. 
He  has  two  machines  which  he  wished  me  to  look  at.  They 
are  to  facilitate  spading,  ploughing,  &c.  He  wants  to  get  them 
before  the  Exhibition  at  New  York. 

"  5.  Mrs.  M was  here  relative  to  Ned  and  the  medicine 

we  sent  him  yesterday. 

"  6.  Greeley  Curtis,  just  from  Rome,  and  now  for  California, 
came.  I  have  not  seen  him  in  several  years.  He  worked  his 
passage  to  and  from  Italy,  and  will  work  it  famously  through 
the  world.  A  brave,  good  fellow. 

"  7.  Dear  Mrs.  Russell  came  at  five,  and  staid  till  nine. 
She  consecrated  the  first  introduction  of  the  gas  into  the  house  : 
so  the  light  of  the  house  and  the  light  of  the  heart  burns  at  the 
same  time.  We  took  tea  by  the  gas  for  the  first  time  ;  lighted 
the  parlor  and  kitchen  therewith,  and  study." 

How  did  such  a  man  find  moments  for  the  books  that 
every  steamer  brought  him  from  England,  France,  Ger 
many  ?  He  appropriated  their  contents  as  if  by  an  instinct. 
Chatting,  he  cut  the  leaves  of  the  thick  octavo,  turning 
them  over  slowly  one  by  one.  The  book  is  laid  down,  with 
the  paper-knife.  "  You  have  not  read  it,  surely  !  "  —  "  Try 
me,  and  judge."  He  was  never  caught  tripping.  The  play 


THE  PASTOR.  251 

of  the  mind  went  on  in  separate  strata,  as  it  were,  each 
department  of  thought  following  its  own  lines  with  undis 
turbed  serenity,  and  leaving  its  broad  trail  as  it  proceeded. 
The  feelings  never  interfered  with  the  working  of  the 
strong  mechanism.  The  powers  that  received  and  the 
powers  that  distributed  had  a  perfect  understanding;  so 
that,  while  the  master  was  temporarily  absent  on  lighter 
business,  the  obedient  faculties  performed  their  duty.  It 
was  as  if  the  man  had  a  double  consciousness,  —  one  out 
side  of  him,  and  one  inside ;  the  one  chatting  in  the  street 
while  the  other  toiled  in  the  office :  but  neither  contra 
dicted  what  the  other  said. 

"  O  thou  great  Friend  to  all  the  sons  of  men, 
Who  once  appeared  in  humblest  guise  below 
Sin  to  rebuke,  to  break  the  captive's  chain, 
To  call  thy  brethren  forth  from  want  and  woe  ! 
Thee  would  I  sing.     Thy  truth  is  still  the  light 
Which  guides  the  nations  groping  on  their  way, 
Stumbling  and  falling  in  disastrous  night, 
Yet  hoping  ever  for  the  perfect  day. 
Yes,  thou  art  still  the  life  ;  thou  art  the  way 
The  holiest  know,  —  light,  life,  and  way  of  heaven  ; 
And  they  who  dearest  hope  and  deepest  pray 
Toil  by  the  truth,  life,  way,  that  thou  hast  given  ; 
And  in  thy  name  aspiring  mortals  trust 

To  uplift  their  bleeding  brothers  rescued  from  the  dust." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   PASTOR. SPECIMENS   OF   CORRESPONDENCE, 

THEODORE  PARKER  tended  flocks  on  distant  hills. 
His  correspondence  shows  the  extent  and  the  delicacy 
of  his  care.  The  copied  letters  and  notes  of  all  kinds, 
which  are  but  a  portion  of  all  he  wrote,  are  contained  in 
seven  bound  volumes  of  quarto  size,  and  number  nine 
hundred  and  forty-eight.  Besides  these  are  piles  of 
manuscript  epistles  to  intimate  friends,  —  to  one,  ninety 
letters  and  fifty-three  notes  ;  to  another,  thirty-nine  letters, 
long,  and  full  of  various  matter.  The  correspondence 
with  one  dear  friend  in  Europe  covers  three  hundred 
pages  folio.  In  addition  to  all  this,  private  notes  in 
great  numbers  were  sent  in  response  to  the  present 
biographer's  call.  And  these  are  but  a  part ;  for  many 
were  not  kept  at  all,  many  were  lost,  and  many  are  held 
back  from  all  eyes  but  those  to  which  they  were  sent. 
They  are  of  every  conceivable  description,  and  of  every 
measure  of  length.  Some  are  treatises  on  politics,  theol 
ogy,  social  ethics,  philosophy,  agriculture ;  and  some  are 
notes  of  three  lines :  but,  whether  long  or  short,  they  con 
tain  the  writer's  peculiar  quality.  Each  had  a  purpose, 
and  accomplished  it.  They  were  written  to  statesmen, 
politicians,  governors,  senators,  presidents,  men  of  letters, 
clergymen,  scholars,  men  of  science,  historians,  teachers, 
farmers,  trades-people,  boys  at  school,  girls  at  home, 
friends  in  sorrow.  The  five  minutes  before  dinner  or  bed, 
252 


THE  PASTOR.  253 

the  spare  half-hour  on  a  railway-train,  between  the  finish 
ing  of  one  book  and  the  opening  of  another,  were  used 
in  this  cordial  way.  When  his  intimates  were  absent,  it 
was  his  custom  to  send  them  almost  daily  some  word  of 
greeting,  always  bright,  often  humorous,  never  other  than 
affectionate.  They  lie  before  me  now,  scores  of  these 
hurried  missives,  in  queer  hieroglyphics  of  pen  or  pencil, 
often  quite  illegible  to  unfamiliar  eyes,  but  never  so  to 
the  sensitive  feeling;  for  the  lovingness  burns  through 
the  shapeless  words,  and  communicates  itself.  If  these 
papers  could  be  printed, — he  in  his  simple-heartedness 
saw  no  reason  why  they  should  not  be,  —  they  would  do 
much  more  than  convince  the  world  that  Theodore  Par 
ker  was  one  of  the  tenderest  hearts  that  ever  beat,  the 
truest  of  friends,  the  most  sympathetic  of  men ;  they 
would  illustrate  the  beautiful  mission  of  letter-writing, 
the  loving  ministries  of  note-paper,  the  sweet  uses  to 
which  the  spare  moments  of  the  busiest  day  may  be  de 
voted,  the  possibility  of  making  the  pen  the  vehicle  of 
pure  feeling,  just  sufficiently  weighted  with  thought  not  to 
be  evanescent. 

Of  course,  in  a  volume  of  these  limited  dimensions,  to 
print  many  letters  in  full  is  impossible.  The  biographer's 
wish  is  to  present  Theodore  Parker,  not  his  literary 
remains  ;  and  this  will  best  be  done  by-  giving  specimen- 
letters,  and  portions  of  letters,  so  as  to  exhibit  him  in  his 
several  relations  to  men  and  women.  Those  who  desire 
to  read  many  important  letters  in  full  are  referred  to  the 
biography  by  Mr.  Weiss,  whose  selection  is  as  admirable 
as  it  is  copious.  That  I  should  in  some  instances  print 
the  same  letters  that  he  did  is  necessary;  for  we  both 
have  sought  the  most  characteristic  ones :  but  whereas  he 
took  such  as  were  most  interesting  in  themselves,  either 
on  account  of  the  subject  or  the  treatment,  the  present 
biographer  has  chosen  such  as  best  illustrated  the  texture 
and  breadth  of  the  writer's  sympathies.  We  will  begin 


254  THEODORE  PARKER. 

with  the  most  personal  and  private,  —  the  pastoral  epis 
tles,  as  they  may  well  be  called. 

To  David  A.  Wasson. 

BOSTON,  June  14,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WASSON,  —  Please  tell  me  what  pecuniary 
means  you  have  for  your  journey  to  Europe.  Perhaps  my  wife 
and  I  can  add  our  two  mites  thereto.  Tell  me  how  you  are,  and 
when  you  sail. 

Faithfully  yours, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

BOSTON,  Oct.  26,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  WASSON,  —  How  glad  I  am  to  know  you  are  safe 
back  in  New  England  once  more  !  I  have  not  ceased  to  think 
of  you  since  you  left  us  last  May,  looking  so  sick,  and  yet  try 
ing  to  be  so  determined.  Tell  me  all  about  yourself:  that  is  the 
matter  of  interest  now.  How  well  are  you  ?  Where  are  you 
sick  ?  What  are  the  symptoms  ?  What  treatment  do  you 
receive  ?  Where  shall  you  pass  the  winter  ?  Tell  me  all. 

Shall  I  send  you  fifty  dollars  now,  or  a  little  later  ?  It  shall 
be  just  as  you  like.,  At  all  events,  I  shall  send  it. 

Thanks  for  the  kind  interest  you  take  in  me.  I  shall  prize 
Dr.  Wilkinson's  prescription,  and  never  look  on  the  pretty 
flower  the  plant  bears  without  thinking  of  him.  When  you 
write,  thank  him  kindly  from  me  for  his  affectionate  concern 
for  me.  I  think  I  am  now  doing  pretty  well.  I  can  work  with 
about  half  of  my  former  powers.  Have  a  trouble  in  my  side, 
but  hope  to  outgrow  it  (!)  My  brothers  and  sisters  died  at  about 
my  age  ;  yet  I  think  I  shall  go  round  the  "  Cape."  Give  your 
self  no  concern  about  me :  take  thought  for  yourself.  German 
will  do  you  good  if  you  take  it  in  moderate  doses. 

My  wife  and  Miss  Stevenson  both  send  their  love  to  you  and 
yours.  Faithfully, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

BOSTON,  Dec.  5,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  WASSON,  —  Here  is  a  check  for  fifty  dollars, 
which  please  accept  with  the  best  good  wishes  of  Mrs.  Parker 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  255 

and  myself.     Let  us  know  how  you  are  in  these  days.     Please 
ask  your  two  excellent  doctors   if   electricity  would  not  help 
you.     Love  from  Mrs.  Parker  and  Miss  Stevenson. 
Yours  truly  and  hastily, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

Rev.  Friederich  Mttnch. 

WEST  R.OXBURY,  Oct.  12,  1846 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  letter  of  Sept.  23  has  just  come  to  hand. 
I  thank  you  for  the  frankness  with  which  you  speak  about  reli 
gious  and  theological  matters,  and  rejoice  most  heartily  in  your 
desires  and  efforts  to  restore  rational  Christianity,  which  is  the 
only  real  Christianity.     I  shall  be  happy  to  serve  you  in  any 
way  that  is  possible.     I  think  your  book  had  better  be  pub 
lished  at  Boston.     If  you  will  send  me  the  manuscript,  I  will  do 
all  in  my  power  to  find  a  publisher,  and  make  no  doubt  that  I 
shall  succeed :  if  I  cannot,  I  will  return  it  to  you  without  cost. 
But  I  think  the  book  would  sell  better,  and  sooner  find  a  circle 
of  readers,  if  you  should  write  a  little  account  of  yourself,  tell 
ing  where  you  were  born,  educated,  &c.     It  might  be  brief  as 
the  biographical  articles  in  the  "  Conversations  Lexicon."    I  think 
you  need  not  hesitate  to  send  the  manuscript  by  mail.     The 
postmaster  will  tell  you  how  to  send  it  with  the  least  expense. 
Then,  if  there  be  any  profit  from  the  sale,  I  will  take  charge  of 
it,  and  send  the  money  to   you.  ...  I  knew  Dr.  Follen  very 
well.     His  wife  is  a  relative  of  my  wife.     She  has  long  been  my 
parishioner,  neighbor,  and  friend.     I  saw  some  of  Dr.  Follen's 
relatives — a  brother  at  Zurich,  and  a  sister  at  Berne — a  few  years 
ago,  and  prize  them  highly.     I  rejoice  to  find  that  you  are  labor 
ing  in  the  great  field  of  rational  Christianity,  and  welcome  you 
as  a  brother.     I  have  myself  written  a  little  book  on  that  theme. 
If  you  were  not  so  distant,  I  would  send  it  to  you :  as  it  is,  I 
send  only  a  couple  of  sermons,  which  will  show  you  my  Stand- 
punct  and  that  of  the  church  which  I  have  gathered  together  in 
Boston.     The  Unitarians  as  a  body  have  done  a  great  work 
already :  they  have  fought  against  the  old  Orthodoxy  (so  called), 
against  total  depravity,  the  eternal  damnation  of  men,  and  the 
like.     Some  things  I  think  they  have  done  wrong :  much  they 
have  failed  to  do.     Now  a  new  Richtung  begins  to  show  itself  ; 
but  it  finds  small  favor  with  the  mass  of  Unitarian  dergy> 


256  THEODORE  PARKER. 

though  much  with  the  people.  This  new  tendency,  I  think,  is  to 
do  much  good.  It  aims  at  ABSOLUTE  RELIGION,  the  Christianity 
of  Christ ;  takes  the  Bible  as  a  helper,  not  as  master.  I  know 
none  in  Germany  who  exactly  represents  this  tendency.  De 
Wette,  perhaps,  comes  the  nearest  to  it ;  but  he  keeps  back  a  good 
deal.  I  fear,  and  does  not  speak  out  clearly.  A  merciless  war 
fare  is  waged  by  the  Philisterei  of  the  old  party  in  the  new 
school ;  but  it  is  fought  with  very  dull  weapons,  though 
Poisoned  ones.  .  .  .  When  you  write,  address  me,  if  you  please, 
at  West  Roxbury,  Mass.,  near  Boston. 

Believe  me  truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Dr.  Fock. 

BOSTON,  Junes;,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  received  your  letter  of  the  27th  of  May 
a  fortnight  ago,  and  immediately  made  inquiries  to  see  what  can 
be  done  for  you  if  you  should  come  to  America.  It  will  be 
difficult  for  you  to  find  a  suitable  employment.  If  you  were  a 
blacksmith,  a  carpenter,  a  fiddler,  or  a  beer-house  keeper,  you 
would  succeed  well  enough.  But  America  is  not  a  good  coun 
try  for  a  theologian  or  a  philosopher.  We  have  many  colleges 
in  America ;  but  all  but  one  are  in  the  hands  of  Calvinists,  who 
would  be  afraid  of  you  :  they  would  fear  your  philosophy  and 
your  freedom  of  thought.  I  think  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find 
a  position  in  any  of  them.  One  college  (Universitdf)  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  Socinians  (Unitarians),  —  Harvard  College,  at  Cam 
bridge,  near  Boston ;  but  there  is  no  place  vacant  there.  Still 
I  may  be  mistaken  about  some  of  the  colleges  in  the  western 
parts  of  America.  If  you  come,  we  will  do  all  that  we  can  for 
you  ;  but  I  am  a  very  unpopular  man,  and  must  therefore  work 
for  you  in  secret.  My  theological  opinions,  and  my  opposition 
to  American  slavery,  have  made  me  so  hateful  to  many  here,  that 
it  would  not  be  wise  in  you  to  mention  me  as  one  of  your  friends. 

I  have  lately  seen  Herr  Edouard  Pelz,  a  German  who  was 
driven  from  Leipzig  by  the  police.  He  has  been  in  prison  in 
Prussia  for  his  writings  :  he  has  written  many  little  works.  He 
has  been  two  months  at  New  York,  and  edits  a  literary  journal. 
He  thinks,  if  you  have  money  enough  to  support  yourself  for  a 
year,  that  your  success  is  certain.  At  Boston  there  are  ten 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  257 

thousand  Germans,  with  three  or  four  churches,  —  one  Catholic. 
At  New  York  there  are  sixty  thousand  or  seventy  .thousand,  and 
in  the  suburbs  of  New  York  ( Vorstadteri)  thirty  thousand  or  forty 
thousand  more :  so  there  are  not  many  places  in  Germany 
where  you  will  find  so  many  Germans  as  these.  If  you  desire 
to  come  to  America,  you  had  better  land  at  New  York,  and  not 
Boston.  It  will  give  me  pleasure  to  be  of  service  to  you  in  any 
way,  and  I  will  do  all  that  I  can  to  help  you  if  you  come ;  for  I 
sympathize  most  deeply  with  you  and  with  your  unhappy  coun 
try  in  her  great  trial.  I  would  recommend  you  to  write  to  my 
excellent  friend  Dr.  J.  G.  Fliigel,  American  consul  at  Leipzig, 
who  will  give  you  advice  as  to  the  mode  of  getting  to  America. 
At  New  York,  when  you  arrive,  if  you  will  visit  Mr.  Rudolph 
Garrigue  (No.  2,  Barclay  Street,  under  the  Astor  House),  book 
seller,  he  will  give  you  information  about  the  Germans  in  New 
York.  Please  let  me  know,  if  you  decide  to  come,  in  what  ship 
you  embark,  and  at  what  time:  then  I  will  do  all  that  I  can  to 
aid  you,  and  may,  perhaps,  secure  you  some  friends.  But  your 
first  year  must  be  a  hard  one.  You  do  not  mention  that  you 
have  a  wife  :  if  not,  your  condition  will  be  more  fortunate ;  for  a 
man  alone  can  endure  much. 

Believe  me  faithfully  your  friend, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Prof.  Felton. 

BOSTON,  June  19,  1851. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  not  according  to  the 
etiquette  of  gentlemen  that  I  should  write  you  a  note  like  this, 
after  all  that  you  have  publicly  written  about  me ;  but  as  I 
never  entertained  any  unkind  feelings  towards  you,  and  never 
doubted  that  you  were  as  faithful  to  your  own  conscience  as  I 
was  to  mine,  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  doing  a  wrong  to  you  or 
myself  in  writing  what  follows.  Of  course,  you  will  do  as  you 
like  about  attending  to  it. 

I  left  a  long  letter  (from  Dr.  Lobeck  to  me)  with  Dr.  Walker 
to  hand  to  you  (for  I  did  feel  some  scruples  in  calling  upon  you 
at  your  house),  hoping  you  would  take  an  interest  in  a  brother 
Grecian.  His  "Book  of  Ionic  Questions"  speaks  for  itself,  and 
I  think  you  have  seen  that.  Can  you  help  the  poor  man  to  any 
place  where  he  can  get  bread  for  himself,  his  liebliche  Frau 

22* 


258  THEODORE  PARKER. 

and  drei  Kinder?  It  is  a  hard  case,  and  one  that  touches 
my  heart  most  tenderly.  I  wish  you  would  inform  me  if  you 
can  do  any  thing  for  him  ;  for  I  shall  write  him  soon  as  I  can 
ascertain  what  he  can  do  here. 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Mr,  and  Mrs.  John  Bigelow,  Medford 

FRIDAY,  Feb.  6,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  GOOD  FRIENDS,  —  How  much  I  rejoice  with  you 
in  the  fine  healthy  little  boy,  the  little  immortal  left  in  your  mortal 
arms  !  I  rejoice  with  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  thank  you  for 
letting  me  know  of  this  new  advent,  thus  making  me  a  partner 
in  your  happiness.  I  was  almost  afraid  —  you  had  lived  so  long 
in  Exeter  Place,  and  been  so  near  a  neighbor  to  us  —  that  your 
silver- wedding  might  be  like  ours,  when  it  shall  come,  —  the  re 
joicing  of  only  two. 

It  is  my  lot  to  have  no  little  darlings  to  call  my  own  ;  yet  all 
the  more  I  rejoice  in  the  heavenly  blessings  of  my  friends. 
The  thing  that  I  miss  most  deeply  in  coming  from  Roxbury  to 
Boston  is  the  society  of  my  neighbors'  little  children,  whom  I 
saw  several  times  a  day,  and  fondled,  and  carried,  and  trotted, 
and  dandled  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  as  if  they  had  been  my  own. 

Well,  God  bless  the  life  that  is  given,  and  the  life  that  is 
spared,  and  the  life  that  rejoices  in  them  both  ! 

I  thank  the  new  mother  for  remembering  an  old  friend  at 
such  an  hour  :  so  give  her  my  most  affectionate  greetings,  and 

believe  me 

Happily  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  William  Sturgis,  Esq. 

BOSTON,  Nov.  31,  1855. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Fourteen  years  ago  this  month,  I  delivered  a 
course  of  lectures  on  matters  pertaining  to  religion  in  Boston. 
A  few  minutes  before  I  began  to  speak,  while  I  felt  such  agonies 
of  embarrassment  and  fear  as  I  hope  never  to  know  again,  you 
came  and  sat  down  beside  me,  and  strengthened  me.  I  have 
been  thankful  ever  since  ;  and  now  beg  you  to  accept  the  volume 
which  accompanies  this  note,  with  the  grateful  regards  of 

Yours  truly, 

THEO.  PARKER. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  259 

To  J.  B.  Parker. 

BOSTON,  April  28,  1853. 

DEAR  JOHN,  —  The  house  will  be  a  nice  thing.  It  is  well 
to  own  the  house  you  live  in,  but  not  dwelling-houses  in  general. 
But  there  are  several  things  to  be  considered.  There  is,  1st,  The 
insurance,  which  is  not  much  at  the  Mutual ;  2d,  The  cost  of 
annual  repairs  ;  3d,  The  fact  that  the  house  wears  out  in  per 
haps  a  hundred  years,  so  that  you  consume  one  per  cent  of  the 
principal  a  year.  All  this  is  to  be  considered  ;  but  you  pay  for 
these  in  the  shape  of  rent  to  some  other  man,  who  considers  all 
this  when  he  makes  up  the  rent.  I  hope  you  will  buy  a  nice 
house,  such  as  you  like,  with  sun  in  the  kitchen.  A  house  on 
the  south  side  of  the  street  is  worth  much  more  than  one  on 
the  north.  You  want  the  sun  in  the  back  part.  Love  to  all. 
Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Mrs.  Martha  P.  Dingee,  York,  Penn. 

BOSTON,  June  27,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  MARTHA,  —  I  don't  know  what  to  advise  Charles. 
It  seemed  to  me  a  little  rash  on  his  part  to  take  a  farm  so  early 
in  life,  with  so  little  acquaintance  with  the  country  and  its  ways  ; 
but  I  suppose  he  knew  better  than  I.  I  don't  like  to  advise  him 
at  such  a  distance,  with  so  little  knowledge  of  the  facts.  But 
one  thing  I  am  sure  of,  —  if  he  goes  back  to  Lexington,  he  "will 
do  nothing,  and,  ten  years  hence,  will  be  driving  some  other  man  }s 
milk-cart  for  eighteen  dollars  a  month,  with  no  chance  of  any 
better  fortune  before  him  for  life.  I  trust  he  will  not  waste  his 
time  and  money  in  a  visit ;  and  also  that  he  will  not  return  to 
live  here.  It  seems  so  cowardly  and  unmanly  to  give  up  de 
feated  !  The  Illinois  Company  makes  good  offers ;  but,  if  I 
were  he,  I  think  I  should  take  government  land  at  a  dollar  and 
twenty-five  cents  the  acre,  as  so  many  thousands  do  every  year. 
But  I  should  work  for  others  till  I  had  two  things,  — 1st,  a  little 
experimental  knowledge  ;  and,  2d,  a  little  ready  money.  You  see 
the  Illinois  Railroad  Company  will  sell  land  for  five  dollars  an 
acre  on  credit,  or  four  dollars  for  cash.  It  is  so  with  every 
thing.  Let  him  work  a  few  years  on  wages,  and  save  his  money, 
and  then  he  can  buy  land  when  he  will.  He  can  lay  by  from  a 


26  o  THEODORE  PARKER. 

hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year,  —  say  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars.  Here,  then,  is  the  state  of  the  case  if 
he  puts  the  money  out  at  interest,  seven  per  cent :  — 

1857  earns  and  saves  $125.     Puts  at  interest. 

1858  "        "         "       125.     Interest  $8.75  equal    $133.75. 

1859  "        "        "       125.  "         9.36       "         143.11. 

1860  "        "        "       125.  "        10.01        "         153.12. 

Then  on  the  1st  of  January,  1861,  he  will  have  $554.98  of  his 
own  earnings  and  savings.  With  that  he  can  buy  land  where 
he  likes,  and  he  will  have  such  experience  as  enables  him  to  buy 
nicely.  He  has  made  a  bad  experiment :  he  must  be  wiser  next 
time.  But  to  return  to  Lexington  would  be  a  yet  worse  experi 
ment  :  he  might  as  well  go  into  partnership  with  "  Bije  Perry  " 
at  once,  as  general  loafer. 

I  am  glad  to  see  that  Charles  has  improved  in  his  spelling; 
but  he  still  seems  to  think  it  a  severe  task  to  write  a  letter,  and 
so  only  does  it  at  rare  intervals.  I  see  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  become  a  thriving  man. 

Now,  with  many  and  the  kindest  regards  for  yourself  and 
yours,  believe  me 

Affectionately  your  uncle, 

THEODORE. 

To  George  E.  Cabot. 

BOSTON,  Aug.  24,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  GEORGIE,  —  Have  not  seen  the  old  gentleman  for 
a  whole  month  !  Never  away  from  him  so  long  since  1848!  I 
was  quite  sorry  not  to  find  you  the  last  day  I  went  in  town,  but 

was  glad  to  hear  such  good  things  from  my  wife.     Mr.  F 

pays  you  a  large  salary.  I  hope  you  will  be  sure  to  earn  and 
deserve  it  all.  I  have  always  made  it  a  rule  to  earn  a  little  more 
than  I  was  paid  for.  But  the  difficulty  with  young  men  often  is 
to  keep  and  save  what  they  actually  receive.  Have  a  good  care 
of  that.  You  know  your  fortune  depends  on  your  earning  and 
saving.  If  I  know  you,  I  think  you  are  a  very  good  young  man. 
I  don't  know  any  immoral  habit  that  you  have,  and  I  hope  I 
shall  never  hear  of  any.  You  have  an  excellent  opportunity  to 
acquire  a  reasonable  fortune.  If  you  conduct  well,  and  save 
your  money,  by  the  time  you  are  five  and  twenty  you  will  be 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  261 

able  to  marry  some  suitable  young  woman  whom  you  love  and 
who  loves  you.  I  don't  know  who  it  is  :  perhaps  you  do  not  yet, 
but  will  find  out  in  due  time.  I  am  glad  you  are  staying  at  Mr. 
Thayer's  to  take  care  of  the  house  and  the  girls.  I  trust  you 
will  prove  worthy  of  the  confidence  they  place  in  you.  Inno 
cent  young  people  can  have  a  good  time  together  when  the  un 
worthy  must  not  be  trusted.  It  is  my  birthday.  I  am  forty-eight 
years  old !  —  more  than  twice  as  old  as  you.  When  you  are  as 
old,  I  hope  you  will  be  a  better  and  more  useful  man.  I  shall  be 
at  home  next  Thursday  afternoon,  I  think ;  but  am  not  quite  sure. 
Affectionately  yours,  T.  P. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  April  17,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  NIECE,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  note  ask 
ing  my  advice  ;  and  will  give  it,  as  you  ask  me.  I  would  advise 
you  by  all  means  to  do  just  as  you  think  proper  and  right.  But, 
if  you  were  I,  you  would  go  without  any  hesitation.  The  advan 
tages  for  you  are  very  great.  To  go  amongst  strangers  is  one 
of  the  best  things  which  could  happen  to  you.  You  will  see  a 
beautiful  country,  new  forms  of  society,  and  a  whole  set  of  new 
things.  It  will  give  you  new  ideas,  make  you  more  of  a  woman, 
and  be  an  exceeding  great  help  to  you.  You  know  the  proverb, 
"  Home-keeping  youths  have  ever  homely  wits  ;  "  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  it.  I  hope  you  will  go.  Surely  you  will, 
if  you  have  any  spirit  of  enterprise  in  you  ;  and  I  think  you  have 
a  good  deal  of  it,  and  hope  to  see  more.  Don't  be  afraid  of 
getting  out  of  the  reach  of  your  mother's  apron-strings.  You 
can  walk  alone  now,  and  it  will  do  you  good  to  walk  alone. 
You  may  feel  a  little  homesick  for  a  week  or  so,  but  will  soon 
find  new  friends,  or  make  them.  Write  me  as  soon  as  you 
make  up  your  mind,  and  tell  me  when  you  shall  go.  If  possible, 
I  will  go  there  with  you,  see  you  comfortably  settled  and  fixed 
down,  and  will  then  as  now  wish  you  all  manner  of  pleasant 
things  :  so  believe  me 

Truly  your  affectionate  uncle,  T. 

An  Anonymous  Letter  of  Advice, 

BOSTON,  Feb.  2,  1853. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  do  think  you  did  wrong  to  be  married  under 
such  circumstances.  I  think  it  was  not  wise  to  leave for  a 


262  THEODORE  PARKER. 

wider  field,  when  no  wider  one  was  in  sight ;  and  you  left  a  cer 
tainty  for  an  uncertainty.  It  seems  to  me  it  would  not  be  a 
very  difficult  thing  for  a  hearty  young  man,  with  good  abilities 
and  good  courage  and  a  good  heart,  to  pay  off  a  few  hundred 
dollars,  or  a  few  thousand  dollars  even,  if  he  is  industrious  and 

economical.     I  don't  wonder  at  the  feeling  you  speak  of  in . 

I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  break  poor 's  heart  with  sorrow, 

disappointment,  and  chagrin.  She  is  your  wife  :  you  are  bound 
to  treat  her  more  tenderly  than  yourself ;  to  sacrifice  your  own  per 
sonal  predilections  for  her.  You  say  she  must  have  a  husband 
whom  she  can  admire  and  be  proud  of.  It  is  for  you  to  give 
her  such  a  husband ;  to  make  such  a  husband  for  her  out  of 
yourself.  It  is  not  manly  in  you  to  be  out  of  employment. 
There  is  a  deal  of  work  to  be  done  in  the  ministry,  in  the  Uni 
tarian  ministry :  there  was  never  such  a  time  for  a  real  living 
man  to  do  a  manly  work.  It  is  much  easier  now  than  ten,  or 
eight,  or  even  six  years  ago.  There  are  more  parishes  vacant, 
looking  for  earnest  and  religious  men.  There  was  never  a  time 
when  idleness  in  a  minister  was  such  a  stigma  and  reproach. 
If  you  have  any  conscience  in  you,  you  will  work  ;  if  you  have 
any  manhood  in  you,  you  will  work.  Not  only  is  there  the 
general  call  of  duty  addressing  every  religious  man,  but  the 
special  call  of  duty  to  you  as  a  husband;  and  this  also  is 
the  voice  of  God.  You  can  find  an  opportunity  to  preach,  I 
doubt  not.  Let  the  new  responsibilities  of  marriage  stir  you  to 

fresh  efforts.     I  beg  you  not  to  put  the  self-denial  on ,  but 

to  take  that  to  yourself.  You  are  young  and  vigorous.  The 
world  is  before  you,  and  a  noble  and  religious  career  of  honor 
able  service  if  you  will. 

Yours  truly, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  July  10,  1847. 

MY  DEAR  PATIENCE,  —  I  have  not  had  a  convenient  opportu 
nity  to  write  you  before.  In  your  note  you  do  not  give  me  very 
distinctly  to  understand  why  you  expect  to  lose  the  -love  and 
affection  of  your  friends.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  may  "  study 
the  laws  of  the  Spirit,"  and  live  the  life  of  the  Spirit,  without  los 
ing  the  affection,  or  even  the  sympathy,  of  your  friends.  The  laws 
of  the  Spirit  may  be  as  well  studied  in  one  place,  or  one  sphere 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  263 

of  life,  as  another.  Living  itself  affords  the  material  of  that 
study  ;  and  the  study  consists  in  reflecting  on  the  material  thus 
given.  But  perhaps  you  are  looking  for  some  new  form  of 
activity  in  which  to  work.  I  am  no  judge  of  that :  you  must 
determine  that  for  yourself.  But  I  hope  you  will  not  mistake 
any  transient  impulse,  which  has  its  origin  in  some  physical 
derangement,  for  a  serious  monition  of  a  lasting  duty.  I  know 
you  will  be  faithful  to  your  own  convictions  of  duty  :  my  only 
fear  is  that  you  should  decide  without  due  deliberation,  and  with 
out  a  complete  understanding  of  your  own  case.  Then,  of  course, 
the  decision  will  be  incorrect,  and  the  result  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit.  Would  not  it  be  well  to  state  distinctly  to  yourself 
what  it  is  that  you  wish  to  do,  and  how  you  wish  to  do  it  ? 
then  you  will  know  exactly  what  you  are  about,  and  not  "fight 
as  one  that  beateth  the  air." 

I  know  you  will  be  true  to  yourself,  but  only  fear  lest  you 
should  not  always  consult  your  permanent  self,  but  only  a 
fleeting  emotion  of  the  day  or  the  night.  If  I  can  ever  be  of 
any  help  to  you,  you  know  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure,  to  be 
so.  So,  dear  Patience, 

Farewell !  T.  P. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Feb.  7,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  PATIENCE,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  sea 
sonable  letter.  It  came,  as  your  letters  always  come,  at  the 
right  time.  I  have  delayed  a  little  while  my  reply,  because  I 
have  been  too  much  occupied  to  find  time  to  write  any  letters 
but  the  most  urgent :  so  you  will  excuse  my  delay  with  the  same 
charity  you  have  always  extended  to  me. 

What  you  say  of  the  love  of  God  is  true  and  beautiful.  I 
understand  your  feelings  and  your  experience ;  at  least,  I  think 
so.  No  one  can  dwell  too  deeply  in  the  love  of  God  ;  for  it  is  the 
noblest  sentiment  we  are  capable  of  feeling  ;  and  it  leads  out  to 
a  love  of  truth,  goodness,  usefulness,  loveliness  ;  for  these  are 
among  the  modes  in  which  we  conceive  of  God.  It  leads,  there 
fore,  in  a  sound  and  healthy  state  of  mind,  to  a  life  full  of 
truth,  goodness,  usefulness,  and  loveliness.  But  there  is  always 
a  danger  that  such  as  dwell  in  this  sentiment  should  lose  them 
selves  in  contemplation ;  become  dreamers,  not  doers;  and  so 
should  be  abundant  in  the  blossoms  of  piety,  and  yet  bring  no 


264  THEODORE  PARKER. 

fruit  to  perfection  ;  so  that,  when  the  Lord  comes  seeking  fruit, 
he  shall  find  leaves  only.  Now,  there  is  always  a  strong  temp 
tation  for  a  mystical  man,  and  I  think  still  more  strong  for  a 
mystical  woman,  to  dwell  amid  the  sentimental  flowers  of  religion, 
charmed  with  their  loveliness,  and  half  bewildered  with  their 
perfume,  so  to  say, — a  danger  lest  common  sins  of  the  times 
should  not  be  thought  so  sinful  and  injurious  as  they  really  are  ; 
and  lest  the  man  should  sit  down  patient  and  contented,  not 
heeding  his  brother's  condition,  nor  helping  him  out  of  the  ditch 
into  which  he  has  fallen.  At  a  certain  stage  of  religious  prog 
ress  we  lose  sight  of  the  human  element ;  we  look  perpetually 
at  the  divine ;  we  think  God  does  all ;  we  resign  ourselves  uncon 
sciously  to  his  will ;  our  own  will  ceases  to  be.  Many  stop  there, 
and  stop  in  outward  inaction  ;  then  they  become  one-sided,  and 
at  length  dwindle.  But,  if  a  man  goes  on,  he  catches  sight  of  the 
human  again,  and  does  not  lose  the  divine.  He  serves  God 
consciously,  and  knowingly  lives  in  obedience  to  the  Great  One. 
He  ceases  to  be  one-sided,  but  loves  God  with  all  his  UNDER 
STANDING  and  REASON,  as  well  as  with  all  his  heart.  Then, 
too,  though  he  loves  contemplation  none  the  less,  he  loves 
action  all  the  more.  The  one  lives  like  a  worm  in  the  heart  of  an 
apple,  fattens  and  grows,  and  then  flies  off :  the  other  not  only 
grows  and  fattens,  but  comes  out,  not  a  moth,  but  a  bee,  and 
visits  all  the  flowers  of  the  garden,  culling  from  all  its  sweets, 
but  carries  off  honey  for  other  bees,  and  builds  up  the  comb,  — 
the  residence  of  future  bees  that  are  to  rejoice  in  his  labors.  We 
must  not  only  fly,  but,  as  we  mount  up,  we  must  take  others  on 
our  wings  ;  for  God  gives  one  more  strength  than  the  rest  only 
that  he  may  therewith  help  the  weak.  I  hope  you  will  one  of 
these  days  come  and  see  us,  and  let  us  talk  with  you.  I  had  a 
very  pleasant  conference  with  Mr.  Hall  the  other  day.  I  wish 
there  were  more  such  men  in  pulpits. 

Remember  me  to  your  parents  and  sisters,  and  believe  me,  as 
always, 

Truly  your  friend  and  brother, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Oct.  27,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  PATIENCE,  —  I  did  not  hear  of  your  affliction  until 
Saturday,  or  I  should  have  come  up  to  see  you  instantly.    Now  I 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  265 

am  obliged  to  go  off  for  some  few  days  :  so  I  fear  I  shall  not 
see  you  till  next  week.  I  hope  you  not  only  sustain  yourself 
with  a  Christian  fortitude,  but  are  able  also  to  comfort  your 
father,  whose  afflictions  are  greater  than  your  own,  and  your  sis 
ters,  who  naturally  will  look  to  you  for  consolation  in  this  hour 
of  sorrow.  I  know  you  will  be  calm,  resigned,  lying  low  in  the 
hand  of  God.  I  know  you  will  know  that  all  is  for  the  greatest 
good  of  her  that  is  gone  and  those  she  has  left  behind.  I  hope 
you  will  be  able  to  cheer  hearts  which  are  sadder  than  your  own. 
They  will  see  more  than  patience  in  you,  I  doubt  not,  even  resig 
nation,  cheerful  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  the  Great  One,  who 
always  is  doing  us  good,  not  less  when  he  causes  us  to  weep 
than  when  he  makes  us  smile.  I  beg  you  to  assure  your  father 
of  my  sincere  sympathy  for  him  in  this  loss,  and  my  hope  that 
he  will  find  comfort  and  peace.  Let  your  sisters  see  and  feel  that 
you  are  superior  to  affliction,  and  you  will  gradually  take  away 
the  grief  of  this  sudder  wound,  and  at  last  heal  it.  I  have  time 
to  say  no  more  ;  for  1  go  presently  :  so  good-by  ! 
Sincerely, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Miss  Etta  M.  White,  Salem,  Mass. 

BOSTON,  Oct.  12,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WHITE,  —  It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to 
receive  your  letter,  which  I  have  just  this  moment  laid  aside. 
Thank  you  for  the  generous  feelings  you  express  to  me. 
Gratitude  is  one  of  the  rarest  as  well  as  fairest  of  the  Christian 
virtues.  But  you  need  not  feel  so  much  towards  me;  for  it 
gives  me  more  pleasure  to  help  you  a  little  than  it  does 
you  to  receive  the  help.  Besides,  am  I  not  paying  an  old 
debt  ?  Your  father  was  one  of  my  earliest  teachers.  He  put 
me  upon  the  study  of  Latin  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  and 
took  great  pains  with  me.  I  must  not  forget  that.  I  trust 
you  will  take  good  care  of  your  health :  all  your  success 
will  depend  upon  that.  Don't  sacrifice  it  even  to  desire 
of  excellence  in  your  studies.  I  hope  you  will  take  regular 
exercise  in  the  open  air,  and  be  sure  to  have  warm  clothing. 
Salem  is  a  damp,  chilly,  east-windy  place,  and,  I  think,  not  quite 
healthy.  The  more  care  will  be  needful  on  your  part. 

Where  do  you  go   to   meeting  ?     Whom  do  you  know  at 
23 


266  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Salem  ?  When  I  visit  the  town,  I  shall  certainly  come  and  see 
you.  If  you  are  ever  in  Boston,  both  my  wife  and  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  you  at  No.  I,  Exeter  Place. 

Believe  me  faithfully  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Mr.  Henry  A.  Wilcox,  Mention,  III. 
Mr.  WILCOX.  BOSTON,  Oct.  10,  1856. 

Dear  Sir,  —  Your  case  is  a  very  hard  one  ;  but  I  do  not  know 
whn-t  advice  to  give  you.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  venture  to  Bos 
ton  01  any  of  the  Eastern  towns,  where  the  avenues  to  all  kinds 
of  business  are  more  crowded  than  with  you  at  the  West.  I 
feel  the  warmest  sympathy  with  you,  and  trust  that  patient 
efforts  will  secure  you  the  victory  in  the  end.  There  are  several 
modes  which  men  try  to  overcome  an  enemy  withal :  one  is  to 
knock  him  down ;  another  to  talk  him  down ;  but  I  think  the 
manly  way  is  to  live  him  down.  After  a  little  while,  farmers  will 
sow  the  wheat  which  gives  the  largest  crop  of  the  best  kind  of 
grain,  and  will  not  care  much  by  what  name  it  is  called.  If 
Hebrew  wheat  yields  only  ten  bushels  to  the  acre,  and  Heathen 
wheat  yields  thirty  of  a  better  quality,  the  bad  name  won't 
keep  the  wheat  from  the  fields. 

It  is  always  pleasant  to  try  and  live  down  the  evil  name  which 
good  deeds  bring  on  a  man.  You  are  always  sure  of  the  peace 
ful  victory  at  last. 

Believe  me  yours  truly, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  H.  A.  Wilcox. 
Mr.  WILCOX.  BOSTON,  April  15,  1858. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter,  but  fear  your 
others  must  have  miscarried  ;  for  I  have  answered  all  I  have 
ever  received.  You  may  not  have  received  all  my  replies.  I 
am  glad  you  like  farming.  It  is  the  most  natural,  and  so  the 
most  healthy,  of  all  human  employments.  Omitting  all  who  die 
before  twenty  years  of  age,  the  average  age  of  farmers  in  Mas 
sachusetts,  at  death,  is  sixty-four ;  that  of  printers,  thirty-six. 
After  they  reach  the  age  of  majority  (twenty-one),  the  printers 
live  fifteen  years  ;  the  farmers,  forty-three. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  267 

I  am  not  astonished  that  you  find  the  head  saves  the  hands.  A 
man  with  a  good  head  and  no  hands  at  all  can  direct  the  muscles 
of  a  thousand  men.  It  is  a  good  profession  for  one's  whole 
life.  I  am  sorry  to  find  it  is  no  more  popular.  In  Europe  it  is 
the  favorite  employment  with  a  great  mass  of  men.  It  is  not 
fast  enough  or  noisy  enough  for  the  Americans. 

I  send  you  a  couple  of  little  sermons  of  mine  lately  printed, 
which  please  accept  with  the  best  wishes  of 
Yours  truly, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Mr.  James  B.  Patterson,  Dayton,  O. 

BOSTON,  Feb.  28,  1855. 

DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND,  —  I  am  the  person  whom  you  met 
in  the  cars,  and  parted  from  at  Albany.  I  sought  you  in  the 
cars  ;  but,  in  the  dim  light,  I  failed  to  find  you.  I  took  a  good 
deal  of  interest  in  the  bright  young  face,  looking  so  pure  and 
hopeful,  and  thinking,  that,  some  five  and  twenty  years  ago,  I 
was  on  the  same  road  that  you  are  now.  I  am  sorry  that  you 
have  met  with  the  "misfortune  "  you  refer  to.  It  certainly  casts  a 
shade  over  a  young  man's  prospect  for  the  moment,  not  for  the 
day.  You  have  a  good  start  thus  far,  and  seem  to  have  laid 
the  foundation  well.  It  will  be  no  misfortune,  in  the  end,  that 
you  must  get  your  own  education.  It  will  bring  out  the  deep, 
manly  elements  at  an  earlier  period  ;  will  make  you  more 
thoughtful  when  you  would  else  have  been  more  gamesome 
and  playful.  If  you  are  a  teacher,  you  can  find  much  time  to 
study  by  yourself.  I  began  to  teach  when  seventeen  years  old, 
and  continued  it  for  four  winters,  working  at  home  on  my 
father's  farm  in  the  other  parts  of  the  year.  I  always  found 
from  eight  to  ten  hours  a  day  for  study,  besides  the  work-hours 
in  school.  Then  I  taught  a  high  school  for  three  years  more, 
and  kept  far  ahead  of  the  class  in  college  of  which  I  was  a 
(nominal)  member.  You  can  do  all  that,  and  perhaps  more. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  well  to  pursue  the  same  studies  you  would 
have  taken  at  college,  with  the  addition  of  such  as  belong  to 
your  calling  as  teacher ;  or  you  may,  perhaps,  teach  till  you 
accumulate  money  enough  to  go  through  the  college  at  a  later 
date.  No  good  thing  is  impossible  to  a  serious  and  earnest 
young  man  with  good  abilities  and  good  moral  principles. 


268  THEODORE  PARKER. 

But,  above  all  things,  be  careful  of  your  health.  Your  suc 
cess  depends  on  a  sound  body.  Do  not  violate  the  laws  which 
God  writes  in  these  tables  of  flesh. 

Let  me  know  where  you  go  and  what  you  find  to  do,  and  I 
will  write  you  again  when  more  at  leisure. 
Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Miss  Abby  M.  Parker,  Savannah,  Ga. 

BOSTON,  Feb.  6,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  PARKER,  —  I  am  truly  obliged  to  you  for 
your  kind  letter.  I  am  glad  you  have  had  the  opportunity  to 
visit  another  land,  see  other  skies,  and  become  acquainted  with 
forms  of  social  life  so  unlike  ours  in  New  England.  The  long 
ing  for  home  is  natural,  and  painful  too,  I  know  very  well ;  but 
it  will  not  be  without  good  results  in  years  to  come.  It  is  a 
good  thing,  in  the  early  part  of  life,  to  fill  the  eye  with  pictures 
of  lovely  things,  —  in  the  North  with  our  shaggy  forests,  moun 
tains,  &c. ;  in  the  South  with  the  varied  and  beautiful  vegeta 
tion  of  tropic-lands  ;  in  all  countries  with  the  stars,  the  little 
flowers,  the  forms  of  animals,  and  the  faces  of  handsome  men 
and  women,  especially  of  children.  All  these  things  help 
educate  the  sense  of  the  beautiful,  give  delight  at  the  time,  and 
furnish  a  world  of  loveliness  for  the  imagination  to  wander  in 
at  other  times,  when  there  is  no  object  of  delight  for  the 
senses,  and  no  special  thing  to  interest  the  mind.  You  have 
the  opportunity  to  add  to  your  store  of  such  things  ;  and  the 
absence  of  society,  of  near  friends,  and  of  books,  will  force 
these  things  upon  your  eye,  to  remain  there  forever. 

I  never  thought  you  would  like  to  live  at  Savannah  all  your 
life  ;  but  you  will  return  better  in  health,  I  trust,  and  with  the 
happy  result  of  your  experience.  I  shall  value  the  flowers 
very  much  which  you  speak  of.  I  have  heard  my  friends 
speak  of  the  abundance  and  beauty  of  the  flowers  in  your 
neighborhood.  Perhaps  you  will  find  it  a  pleasant  thing  for 
yourself  to  gather  a  flower  from  each  spot  you  visit,  press 
it  in  a  book,  —  putting  the  date  and  place  in  the  margin,  —  and 
so  keep  a  diary  of  blossoms  as  the  day-book  of  your  travels. 
I  always  do  so  in  my  rambles  about  the  world,  and  find  my 
flower-books  the  most  valuable  records. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  269 

If  you  get  time,  and  feel  the  inclination,  I  hope  you  will 
write  me  again  ;  for  I  love  to  keep  my  eye  on  the  minds  of  my 
young  friends  when  they  wander  off  from  me.  We  have  had 
some  things  here  that  would  have  interested  you  this  winter,  — 
concerts  by  the  Germanians,  the  Musical  Fund  Association, 
&c.,  and,  best  of  all,  six  lectures  from  Mr.  Emerson.  The 
latter  you  may  read  some  day.  Accept  my  kind  and  friendly 
regards,  and  believe  me 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  M.  M.  Parker. 

BOSTON,  May  16,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MARTHA,  —  I  was  glad  to  receive  your  letter, 
which  has  just  come  to  hand  ;  and  quite  pleased  to  find  you 
like  your  new  situation.  I  am  always  afraid,  in  so  small  a 
school,  you  will  not  have  enough  to  do.  It  is  better  to  have 
too  much  than  too  little.  If  you  have  not  enough  to  do,  the 
mind  grows  sluggish,  and  all  the  faculties  deteriorate. 

I  hope  you  will  improve  the  opportunity  to  learn  French  and 
drawing.  I  would  do  so  by  all  means.  In  learning  to  draw, 
do  not  confine  yourself  to  copying  prints,  but  draw  from 
nature  also.  Hang  up  a  cabbage-leaf  or  a  burdock,  with  its 
side  towards  you,  and  draw  that ;  then  hang  it  a  little  edge 
wise  (so  as  to  see  half  of  its  breadth),  and  then  draw  again. 
I  think  this  will  help  you  much. 

I  think  you  need  society,  the  acquaintance  of  educated  and 
refined  persons.  I  would  take  every  opportunity  to  meet  such 
persons.  At  York  I  think  you  will  find  many  agreeable  and 
instructive  persons. 

Shakspeare  you  will  find  a  mine  of  beauty  and  of  rich  wisdom. 
"  Hamlet"  it  will  be  worth  while  to  read  over  twenty  or  thirty 
times,  till  you  know  it  thoroughly,  and  can  repeat  all  the  finest 
pieces.  If  you  come  in  contact  with  a  copy  of  Byron,  you  had 
better  read  that  carefully ;  delightedly  I  know  you  will.  I 
tried  to  get  for  you  a  copy  of  "  The  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Lit 
erature  "  when  you  went  to  Pennsylvania;  but  found  none. 
Some  time,  when  I  see  you,  I  will  bring  it.  I  shall  not  attend 
the  Convention  this  year.  I  wish  I  could ;  but  I  have  so  much 
to  do  at  home,  that  I  have  no  time  for  such  an  expedition  this 
year. 

23* 


270  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Give  my  regards  to  the  Wrights  and  the  Townsends,  and 
believe  me  truly 

Your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  a  Young  Woman, 

BOSTON,  Dec.  14,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MAIDEN,  —  "The  course  of  true  love 
never  did  run  smooth : "  so  is  it  writ  in  many  a  history.  This 
particular  affair  may  turn  out  quite  different  from  what  it  now 
appears.  There  may  be  ups  .and  downs  in  a  courtship.  If 
there  were  not  a  true  congeniality  between  you,  it  is  fortunate 
he  made  the  discovery  so  early :  by  and  by  it  would  be  more 
painful  to  break  off.  But,  be  the  future  what  it  may,  of  this 
you  are  sure,  —  the  love  which  filled  up  the  few  months  with  its 
handsome  flowers.  That  leaves  a  mark,  like  the  traces  in  the 
rocks  of  New  England,  which  will  never  be  effaced  from  the 
character.  I  know  it  is  very  painful  for  a  young  maiden  to  bear 
such  disappointments,  especially  for  deep-hearted  maidens  ;  but 
there  is  a  source  of  strength  and  comfort  in  the  religious  facul 
ties  within  you,  which  will  never  refuse  supply  in  time  of  sorest 
need.  Burnt  spots  in  the  woods  bear  the  earliest  plants  and 
most  luxuriant  and  most  delicate  flowers :  so  can  it  be  with 
you ;  so  I  trust  it  will  be.  It  will  always  give  me  pleasure  to 
see  you  and  hear  from  you. 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

Extract  from  a  Letter. 

AUG.  14,  1859. 

...  I  am  glad  you  are  busy  with  work  of  the  house  and 
dairy  ;  that  you  can  make  good  bread  (I  think  it  one  of  the  fine 
arts),  and  also  good  butter.  We  lived  (or  staid)  ten  weeks  at 
St.  Croix,  and  had  never  a  morsel  of  tolerable  bread.  There 
are  few  American  women  who  can  make  a  decent  article  :  many 
of  them  commit  the  (female)  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  con 
tinually  by  transfiguring  good  meal  into  bad  bread.  By  famous 
I  meant  eminent  (which  is  in  your  power),  not  renowned  (which  is 
both  undesirable,  and  out  of  your  control).  I  should  rather  be 
eminent  for  bread  and  butter  than  famous  for  straddling  about 
on  platforms,  and  making  a  noise  in  public  meetings,  and  getting 
into  the  newspapers,  as  many  women  do. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  271 

If  you  can  find  a  school  that  you  suit,  and  which  suits  you, 
I  would  take  it;  but,  if  not,  I  would  make  the  most  of  duty 
which  lies  about  me  at  home.  By  and  by  you  will  have  that 
opportunity  to  be  loved  which  you  wish  for  so  much,  and  per 
haps  in  the  most  attractive  of  all  forms.  But  I  should  not 
lightly  esteem  the  purely  affectional  love  of  father  and  mother 
for  an  only  daughter,  nor  cherish  romantic  nonsense  in  my 
head.  The  river  of  life  is  not  all  foam  :  indeed,  froth  is  a  very 
small  part  of  it ;  one,  too,  which  neither  waters  the  meadow,  nor 
turns  the  mill,  nor  adds  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  stream. 
Books  will  enliven  the  else  dull  hours  of  winter;  and  both 
strengthen  and  enrich  your  mind,  if  you  choose  them  well. 

There    must   be    a   plenty  of    intelligent   people    in  ,  of 

your  own  age,  to  afford  you  the  company  you  need.  I  see  not 
why  you  should  not  be  as  happy  at  home  as  a  young  maiden 
need  be.  The  prose  of  life  is  quite  as  indispensable  as  the 
poetry,  and  about  twenty  times  greater  in  quantity.  The  apple- 
tree  is  in  flower  a  week,  in  bearing  some  twenty  weeks,  and,  be 
sides,  is  still  and  silent  long  months,  but  active  all  the  time.  .  .  . 

To  the  Same. 

BOSTON,  Sept.  10,  1858. 

MY  DEAR ,  —  Your  lot  is  harder  than   I  fancied ;  for 

I  thought  your  occupation  was  a  fixed  fact  which  would  con 
tinue,  and  that  Theodore's  health  was  mending,  and  would 
finally  be  restored.  It  is  indeed  very  sad  to  see  a  boy  thus  fade 
away.  It  is  natural  the  old  should  die :  it  is  against  nature 
that  the  young  pass  off  so  premature.  Still  I  see  no  reason 
for  the  foolish  melancholy  you  indulge  in,  and  seem  to  cherish. 
I  know  not  how  much  of  it  is  constitutional,  and  so  beyond 
your  control.  Still  I  fear  much  of  it  is  wilful,  and  within  your 
own  power :  this  latter  you  should  check  at  once,  and  finally 
make  way  with  and  end.  It  cannot,  perhaps,  be  done  by  a 
direct  act  of  the  will,  but  indirectly  by  the  performance  of  daily 
duties.  The  common  wants  of  life  afford  the  best  opportuni 
ties  for  happiness  and  noble  character.  Housekeeping,  school- 
keeping,  and  the  like,  are  the  best  things  for  the  majority  of 
women  :  they  are  as  good  as  grass  for  cattle.  By  and  by  you 
will  find  a  school  somewhere.  A  common  school  will  not  be 
an  unfit  place  for  you  to  work  in.  I  would  seek  the  highest 
I  was  fit  for,  and  put  up  with  the  best  I  could  find. 


272  THEODORE  PARKER. 

But,  for  the  time,  you  must,  no  doubt,  stay  at  home,  and  do 
what  you  can  for  your  little  brother.  I  trust  you  will  find  com 
fort  and  satisfaction ;  but  it  must  come  out  of  your  own  soul. 
Remember  me  with  kind  sympathy  to  your  father  and  mother, 
and  Theodore  too. 

Affectionately  yours, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  W.  Silsbee. 

BOSTON,  Dec.  4,  1848.  —  Monday  morning. 

MY  DEAR  WILLIAM,  — I  did  not  know  what  had  befallen 
you  till  late  on  Saturday,  or  I  should  have  come  instantly  to 
Salem,  not  to  offer  you  my  consolation  (I  know  how  poor  and 
cold  that  will  appear  in  your  case),  but  to  give  you  my  sympathy. 
How  little  did  I  think,  when  you  were  last  with  us,  that  so  soon 
such  an  affliction  would  befall  you  !  But,  William,  you  are  a 
man,  and  can  bear  hardness  ;  you  are  a  Christian,  and  can  trust 
God  with  an  absolute  faith.  It  is  not  an  evil  thing  that  has 
befallen  Charlotte.  Oh,  no,  William !  it  is  a  good  thing :  it  is 
only  a  hard  thing  that  has  befallen  you.  But  why  has  that  come 
upon  you  ?  Is  it  a  thing  infinitely  evil  to  you  ?  Surely  not. 
Now  you  will  have  tears.  I  know  what  tears  ;  I  know  what 
grief  and  rending  of  the  heart.  But  the  tears  are  not  forever  : 
the  heart  now  rent  is  to  be  blessed  by  that  very  rending.  I 
know  there  is  an  ecstasy  of  grief  in  spiritual  men,  finely  attuned 
by  religion,  which  for  a  time  gives  an  unnatural  calmness  and  a 
beauty  of  faith  not  seen  or  known  before.  I  never  could  doubt 
the  Infinite  Goodness  in  times  of  severest  trial.  But  that 
ecstasy  will  not  last :  there  come  sore  days  of  emptiness,  when 
we  go  stooping  and  feeble,  with  failing  eyes  and  a  hungry 
heart.  That  is  the  great  sorrow,  the  long  grief.  But  there  is 
comfort  in  that  period.  Your  wife  will  not  be  lost  to  you.  She 
will  come  back  to  your  affections  :  the  kind  words  you  have 
spoken  to  her  will  now  return,  echoed  from  the  immortal  world. 
The  wife  will  become  an  angel  to  cheer  you,  guide  you,  bless 
you.  It  is  not  now  the  mortal  woman,  failing  and  imperfect,  it 
is  the  madonna  out  of  heaven,  who  will  lean  down,  and  look 
over  to  help  you.  In  the  autumn  I  have  seen  a  spot  in  the 
woods  burnt  over  by  some  accidental  lightning,  a  roving  thun 
der-bolt  falling  at  random  (so  it  seemed)  out  of  heaven.  All  was 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  273 

burnt  over, — the  leaves  and  the  grass  ;  the  trunks  of  trees  looked 
black  and  ugly :  but  in  the  spring  tender  flowers  came  up  which 
grew  nowhere  else  in  the  wood,  for  the  sun  came  warmest  on 
that  blackened  earth  ;  fragrant  grass  grew  there ;  and  all  summer 
long  it  was  the  greenest  and  the  fairest  spot  in  all  that  wood. 
Yes,  it  was  the  last  spot  which  the  autumnal  frost  set  foot  upon. 
So  it  is  with  sorrow-stricken  souls.  But  why  do  I  write  as  if 
to  console  ?  I  only  wish  to  offer  you  the  sympathy  of  one 
kind  heart  which  bleeds  at  the  arrow  so  sorely  piercing  you.  I 
would  come  and  see  you  to-day ;  but  it  is  impossible.  Per 
haps  to-morrow  ;  at  any  rate,  as  soon  as  possible. 
God  bless  you,  and  wipe  the  tears  from  your  eyes. 

T. 

WlLLOUGHBY   LAKE,  VT.,  Aug.  3,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  SANBORN,  —  Your  letter  apprises  me  of  the  sad 
fact  which  I  always  thought  must  soon  or  late  come  to  your 
knowledge.  I  know  the  nature  of  that  treacherous  complaint 
too  well.  When  you  were  first  engaged,  I  felt  about  it  as  you  do 
now.  There  was  a  flower  as  brief  as  beautiful.  Young  love 
sustained  her,  gave  her  new  hope,  new  vigor,  new  strength, 
and  so,  doubtless,  prolonged  the  life  you  loved  so  fondly.  I 
saw  how  her  friends  mistook  love  for  life.  But  there  are  cases 
in  which  the  soul  thus  deeply  stirred  pushes  the  malady  aside, 
and  the  body  lives  in  triumph.  If  she  recovers,  it  will  be  by 
that  medicine. 

I  have  watched  your  love  with  great  interest,  always  with 
trembling.  Well,  it  is  a  dear  and  beautiful  thing  once  to  love 
with  all  the  fervor  of  youth ;  to  love  one  so  worthy  of  a  firm 
and  manly  love,  so  capable  of  firm  and  womanly  love. 
Come  what  may  come,  so  much  you  are  sure  of,  so  much 
joy  of  the  noble  sort  given  and  received,  so  much  life  made 
into  character.  This  attachment  has  blessed  you  both.  If 
death  must  separate  the  two  souls  which  seem  made  for 
each  other,  I  know  nothing  but  religion  which  can  sustain 
the  survivor:  that  can.  The  tenderest  sympathy  of  your 
friends  will  be  freely  given  you  :  that  will  be  a  little  comfort. 
All  the  excellences  which  made  you  love  her  will  appear  more 
lovely,  more  excellent,  when  they  are  immortal.  Your  affec 
tions  will  follow  her  where  she  precedes.  "  Where  thou  diest 


274  THEODORE  PARKER. 

will  I  die,"  you  will  say ;  meaning,  "Where  thou  /rz/*tf  will  I  live" 
But  the  sweetest,  best,  of  consolations,  will  come  from  your 
realizing  sense  of  the  love  of  God.  She  takes  the  step  in  her 
progress  which  we  call  "  death. "  You  had  hoped  it  would  not  be 
taken  yet,  nor  separately,  but  arm  in  arm,  at  the  same  time, 
you  should  become  immortal  together.  Alas  !  the  better  half 
of  the  treasure  exhales  to  heaven,  and  leaves  the  earthen  vessel 
and  the  widowed  soul.  But  there  is  a  self-sustaining  iaith 
which  looks  even  that  disaster  in  the  face,  and  is  triumphant. 

Do  not  doubt  you  shall  have  my  tenderest  sympathies  in  my 
holiest  hours.  I  know  too  well  the  touch  of  suffering  :  'tis  part 
of  my  daily  life  to  try  and  strengthen  others  for  the  cup  of 
sorrow  which  may  not  pass  from  us.  You  do  not  yet  know 
what  heroic  strength  there  is  in  the  womanly  part  of  manhood. 
I  could  wish  you  might  not  find  it  out  for  many  years.  But,  if 
you  must,  then  let  me  say,  that  he  who  drinks  early  at  this  deep 
spring  has  a  life  in  him  which  common  men  know  not,  —  other 
sorrows,  other  joys,  other  hopes,  other  aspirations.  Fear  not, 
my  brave  young  friend,  God  will  be  with  you  as  with  her ;  and 
eternity  will  mend  what  time  so  sadly  seems  to  mar. 

Come  and  see  us  when  you  return  to  Cambridge,  soon  as  you 
can.  Let  me  hear  from  you.  I  shall  be  in  Newbury,  Vt.,  in 
about  ten  or  fourteen  days.  You  and  your  friends  will  know 
best  what  to  do.  But  you  must  not  think  of  forsaking  Cam 
bridge :  that  will  not  save  her,  and  will  seriously  injure  her. 
Let  me  know  if  a  little  money  is  needed,  and  you  know  it  will 
give  me  pleasure  to  furnish  it. 

Affectionately  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

Remember  me  affectionately  and  tenderly  to  A ;  but  I 

think  she  had  better  not  see  the  letter. 

BOSTON,  Sept.  5,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  SANBORN,  —  So  the  summer  and  the  mortal  life 
went  out  together.  It  was  pleasant  that  she  passed  farther 
on  at  such  a  time, — the  day  of  your  souls'  nuptials.  Tears  you 
will  shed ;  tears  you  must  shed :  do  not  try  to  check  them. 
But  you  have  an  angel  in  place  of  a  wife.  I  never  thought 
your  wedding  would  be  other  than  it  is.  But  the  marriage 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  275 

between  a  mortal  and  an  immortal  has  the  tenderest  influences 
on  the  humbler  spirit  which  yet  wears  the  dusty  dress  of  flesh. 
You  will  look  up. 

I  know  not  how  to  try  to  console  you,  but  would  rather  use 
"  words  of  endearment  when  words  of  consolation  avail  not." 
But  she  has  gone  forward  to  that  higher  wedlock,  where  develop 
ment  and  delight  not  dreamed  of  here  must  needs  take  place. 
To  the  intellect,  death  is  nothing,  —  it  is  a  ferrying  over  the 
nver,  where  the  yonder  banks  are  fairer  than  the  hither :  to  the 
religious  part  of  our  nature  it  is  a  triumph,  a  great  circum 
stance  and  a  joyous  ;  but  to  the  affections  it  is  the  most  cruel 
of  separations. 

"  Was  liebt  muss  zusammen  sein," 

and  we  mourn  bitterly  as  our  dear  ones  are  torn  away.  But  in 
the  burnt  spots  of  our  woodland  there  come  up  sweet  grass 
and  fairest  flowers  :  the  tenderest  virtues  bloom  gloriously  there. 
I  see  the  effect  this  is  to  have  on  your  character.  I  know,  as 
you  cannot,  how  it  will  stimulate  the  noblest  things  in  you, 
making  you  wise  before  your  time,  and  giving  qualities  else  not 
won  in  many  a  year.  Doubt  not  that  you  are  remembered  in 
the  tenderest  communings  of  my  heart,  both  in  its  public  and 
its  private  hours.  I  did  not  receive  your  letter  till  Monday, 
but  remembered  you  not  less  in  the  .opening  services  at  the 
Music  Hall,  where  I  saw  only  one  of  your  friends,  —  May.  I 
hope  you  will  come  and  see  us  soon  as  you  return  this  way. 
In  the  mean  time  look  to  me  for  any  kind  offices  you  need,  and 
believe  me  one  that  early  learned  to  suffer,  and 
Most  faithfully  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  C.  A.  Bartol. 

BOSTON,  Dec.  i,  1852. 

DEAR  BARTOL,  —  I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  new  volume 
of  sermons,  which  has  just  come  to  hand  (I  received  your  note 
at  the  tea-table).  Don't  dream  that  I  value  'or  love  a  man  less 
because  he  and  I  differ  on  questions  of  geology  or  theology,  or 
any  thing  else.  I  never  did,  and,  I  think,  never  shall.  We 
have  lots  of  errors  both  (and  all)  of  us,  no  doubt,  but  some 
little  truth  to  cling  by,  to  live  with,  and  (if  need  comes)  to  die 


276  THEODORE  PARKER. 

for  at  the  last.  I  love  to  meet  all  sorts  of  persons,  to  live  with 
all  sorts  of  books,  and  so  get  a  little  widened  by  intercourse  with 
Heathens  and  Christians,  Catholics,  Protestants,  and  Mormons. 
I  am  amazed  at  the  intolerance  of  men.  They  hate  one  another 
for  a  difference  on  a  question  of  time  in  the  geological  periods 
of  the  earth,  for  a  difference  in  regard  to  tariff  or  free  trade,  to 
Gen.  Scott  or  Gen.  Pierce,  to  Trinity  or  Unity,  Christianity  or 
Mosaism.  It  is  all  wrong.  We  may  ask  each  man  to  be  faith 
ful  to  himself,  not  to  another  man's  self.  The  same  fidelity  leads 
different  men  to  very  different  conclusions.  Was  not  Beecher 
honest  as  Channing,  and  Blanco  White  faithful  as  either  of  the 
two  ?  Let  us  agree  to  think  differently  (when  we  must),  and  to 
love  one  another  still. 

Truly,  as  of  old, 

T.  P. 

Rev.  John  Pierpont. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Oct.  15,  1845. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  called  to  see  you  yesterday,  but  unluckily 
missed  you  ;  and  as  I  shall  not,  it  is  probable,  have  another 
opportunity  to  take  you  by  the  hand,  I  will  now  say  a  word  to 
you  before  you  leave  Boston.  None  can  regret  your  departure 
more  than  I.  We  have  not  been  much  together.  You  have  been 
busy,  and  so  have  I :  therefore  I  have  not  seen  you  so  often  as  I 
could  always  have  wished.  But  I  have  always  felt  encouraged 
and  strengthened  by  your  example,  and  that  long  before  I  had 
any  " troubles  "  with  my  theological  "brethren."  If  you  had 
done  as  the  other  ministers,  had  you  been  as  they  are,  you 
would  not  now  have  been  leaving  Boston.  If  you  had  flattered 
the  follies,  and  winked  at  the  sins,  of  the  rich,  you  would  have 
had,  not  your  reward  (that  you  have  now),  but  their  reward  :  I 
mean,  the  reward  of  the  ministers  you  leave  behind.  But  you 
have  chosen  another  part,  and  have  YOUR  reward,  —  a  little  differ 
ent  from  theirs.  You  must  go  in  triumph  ;  for  you  have  fought 
a  good  fight  and  a  great  one.  For  nearly  thirty  years,  you  have 
been  foremost  in  all  the  great  reforms  of  the  day  which  had  the 
welfare  of  men  for  their  object.  You  have  been  fearless  and 
free.  If  others  didn't  help  you,  you  thought  that  was  a  reason 
why  you  should  work  the  more.  When  your  valor  was  called 
for,  you  did  not  turn  round  to  remember  your  discretion.  None 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  277 

of  the  great  moral  enterprises  of  the  day  would  have  stood  where 
now  they  stand,  if  you  had  not  opened  your  manly  voice  in  their 
behalf.  Where  would  temperance  have  been  if  John  Pierpont 
had  been  silent  ?  where  many  other  good  and  noble  causes  ? 
It  is  your  zeal  for  the  great  cause  which  Jesus  died  to  serve 
that  now  has  brought  you  to  your  present  position.  Your 
reward  is  with  you.  The  confidence  that  you  worked  faithfully, 
and  wrought  a  great  work,  will  go  with  you,  and  bless  you  to  the 
end  of  your  days.  Nothing  has  happened  for  years  so  reflect 
ing  disgrace  on  the  Boston  clergy  as  your  departure  from  the 
city  under  the  present  circumstances.  But  what  is  their  dis 
grace  is  your  glory.  Go,  then  ;  and  may  God  be  with  you  !  For 
my  sake,  for  the  sake  of  many,  I  could  wish  you  were  to  stay  ; 
but  it  is  better  you  should  go.  I  know  you  will  find  work 
enough  to  be  done,  and  warm  hearts  to  welcome  you  in  doing  it. 
You  leave  behind  not  a  few  to  bless  you  for  your  toils,  and  to 
pray  for  your  future  success  and  welfare.  Your  memory  will 
live  ever  in  their  affections,  and  their  good  wishes  will  follow  you 
wherever  you  go.  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  thanks  for  all  that 
you  have  done,  and  to  believe  me  ever 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Mrs.  Julia  Bridges,  Newton  Corner, 

BOSTON,  April  9,  1858. 

DEAR  MADAM,  —  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  interest 
you  take  in  my  spiritual  welfare,  and  obliged  to  you  for  the  let 
ter  which  has  just  come  to  hand.  I  gather  from  it  that  you  wish 
me  to  believe  the  theological  opinions  which  you  entertain  and 
refer  to.  I  don't  find  that  you  desire  any  thing  more. 

I  make  no  doubt  the  persons  who  pray  for  my  conversion  to 
the  common  ecclesiastical  theology,  and  those  who  pray  for  my 
death,  are  equally  sincere  and  honest.  I  don't  envy  them  their 
idea  of  God  when  they  ask  him  to  come  into  my  study  and  con 
found  me,  or  to  put  a  hook  into  my  jaws  so  that  I  cannot  speak. 
Several  persons  have  come  to  "  labor  with  me,"  or  have  written 
me  letters  to  convert  me.  They  were  commonly  persons  quite 
ignorant  of  the  very  things  they  tried  to  teach  me.  They 
claimed  a  divine  illumination  which  I  saw  no  proofs  of  in  them, 
in  their  lives  or  their  doctrines.  But  I  soon  found  it  was  with 
24 


278  THEODORE  PARKER. 

them  as  it  is  with  you :  they  did  not  seek  to  teach  me  either 
piety  (which  is  the  love  of  God)  or  morality  (which  is  the  keep 
ing  of  the  natural  laws  he  has  written  in  the  constitution  of 
man),  but  only  to  induce  me  to  believe  their  catechism,  and 
join  their  church.  I  see  no  reason  for  doing  either. 

I  try  to  use  what  talents  and  opportunities  God  has  given  me 
in  the  best  way  I  can.  I  don't  think  it  is  my  fault  that  I  reject 
the  absurd  doctrines  which  I  find  in  the  creed  of  these  people 
who  wish  to  instruct  me  on  matters  of  which  they  are  profoundly 
ignorant. 

But  the  Catholics  treated  the  Protestants  in  the  same  way, 
and  the  Jews  and  the  Heathens  thus  treated  the  Christians.  I 
find  good  and  religious  men  amongst  all  classes  of  men, — 
Trinitarians,  Unitarians,  Salvationists  and  Damnationists,  Prot 
estants,  Catholics,  Jews,  Mahometans,  Heathen.  There  is  one 
God  for  us  all ;  and  I  have  such  perfect  love  for  him,  that  it  long 
since  cast  out  all  fear. 

Believe  me  yours  truly, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 


What  flocks  of  letters  like  the  one  that  follows  would 
have  fluttered  over  desolated  homes  had  Theodore  Parker 
lived  to  animate  the  strong,  and  console  the  bereaved,  in 
our  great  war !  And  this  was  written  by  a  dying  man. 
Young  Edd)  was  one  of  John  Brown's  little  band.  The 
expedition  alluded  to  was  the  enterprise  at  Harper's 
Ferry. 

To  Mrs.  Eliza  F.  Eddy. 

ROME,  Nov.  19,  1859. 

.  .  .  Your  son  has  _/#//<?#  a  ?nartyrin  a  cause  not  less  holy,  and 
much  more  philanthropic.  He  sought  to  deliver  his  own  coun 
trymen  from  domestic  misrule  and  oppression  incomparably 
greater  than  what  your  fathers  fought  against.  Don't  think  his 
young  life  was  wasted  and  thrown  away  because  the  expedition 
failed  of  its  immediate  object :  it  will  help  obtain  its  ultimate  ob 
ject  ;  will  strike  terror  into  the  hearts  of  all  slaveholders,  and  so 
weaken  the  bonds  which  now  hold  the  slave.  Every  victory  we 
rejoice  in  has  been  bought  with  the  blood  of  men.  Such  as 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  279 

died  had  mothers  and  sisters,  often  wives  and  children,  to  mourn 
the  private  cost  at  which  the  public  benefit  was  bought.  To  the 
emancipation  of  American  bondmen  you  have  contributed  your 
first-born  son  :  not  a  drop  of  his  blood  is  wasted.  He  himself 
is  immortal,  and  has  passed  to  that  higher  world  we  shall  all 
enter  on  before  long.  He  is  a  gainer  by  the  change  ;  and 
though  his  second  birth  took  place  in  such  terrible  scenes,  and 
he  was  delivered  from  the  mortal  flesh  with  such  dreadful  instru 
ments,  not  the  less  does  he  pass  into  that  glorious  life  "  which 
eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  con 
ceived."  I  know  what  you  lose ;  but  I  think  of  no  cause  in  which 
I  should  rather  one  of  my  friends  would  lay  down  his  mortal 
life.  Surely  the  blessing  of  men  ready  to  perish  will  fall  on 
him.  Here  is  your  consolation  on  earth  ;  and,  beyond  the 
earth,  it  will  not  be  long  before  there  is  another  meeting  of  souls 
widowed  and  orphaned  here  below.  .  .  . 

I  know  nothing  of  the  details  of  your  son's  departure,  only 
what  "  The  Standard  "  briefly  told.  The  last  time  I  saw  him, 
he  came  to  consult  me  about  another  enterprise,  which  yet 
looked  to  the  same  end,  only  by  means  apparently  more  fearful. 
I  could  not  fail  to  honor  the  motives  which  prompted  him  then : 
not  less  do  I  honor  him  now  ;  nay,  far  more. 

Your  family  have  been  always  in  the  first  rank  of  the  oppo 
nents  of  slavery,  continually  making  sacrifices  for  the  slave.  It 
is  not  inappropriate  that  the  crown  of  martyrdom  should  be  set 
on  one  of  the  members  of  the  same  family, — a  crown  of  thorns, 
indeed,  but  also  a  crown  of  glory.  I  have  been  with  you  in 
other  troubles  terrible  to  bear.  I  think  I  know  with  what  reli 
gious  fortitude  you  will  endure  this. 

Oh  that  I  were  in  Boston  to  give  consolation  in  private,  and 
in  public  to  warn  the  young  and  wicked  nation  against  the  folly 
which  now  threatens  to  ruin  us  !  I  would  prove  that  the  slaves 
have  a  natural  right  to  destroy  their  oppressors,  and  that  it  may 
be  the  duty  of  freemen  to  help  them.  This  is  only  the  beginning. 
Nine  experiments  will  seem  to  fail :  the  tenth  will  succeed,  and 
pay  for  all  the  previous  mistakes.  The  defeats  in  the  early  part 
of  the  American  Revolution  were  essential  to  the  great  victory 
at  last ;  part  of  the  battle  in  which  we  were  conquerors.  My 
dear  Mrs.  Eddy,  accept  again  my  heartiest  sympathy :  would  I 
had  more  to  offer  !  Tell  your  father  I  shall  write  him  soon  as 


280  THEODORE  PARKER. 

I  have  news  of  the  trial  and  fate  of  Capt.  Brown.     God  bless 
you  all ! 

Believe  me  ever  faithfully  yours  and  affectionately, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Dr.  Bowman^  Edgingion,  III. 
Dr.  BOWMAN.  BOSTON,  May  22,  1858. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  heard  of  several  cases  like  that  sad  one 
you  mention.     No  man  becomes  mad  in  attempts  to  become 
honest,  truthful,   humane,   merciful,   a  good  father,   husband, 
brother,  &c.     What  a  direful  thing  is  a  false  theology/     No  won 
der  men  grow  mad  in  attempting  to  appease  a  God  who  damns 
nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  while  he  saves  but  one  ;  a  God 
who  is  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  one-thousandths  damna 
tory,  and  only  one  one-thousandth  beneficent. 
But  better  times  are  coming. 
I  send  you  a  few  sermons. 

Yours  truly, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Dr.  Bowman,  Edgington,  III. 
Dr.  BOWMAN.  BOSTON,  Nov.  3,  1856. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  just  returned  from  a  tour  to  your  State, 
and  find  your  pleasant  and  encouraging  letter  with  four  dollars 
in  it.  I  send  the  books  by  express  to-day.  I  am  exceedingly 
glad  when  I  find  that  I  can  help  a  man  out  of  the  mire  of  the 
popular  theology  to  the  firm  footing  of  natural  religion. 

Please  let  me  hear  from  you  again.  I  have  some  sixty  letters 
to  write,  and  must  now  be  short. 

Yours  truly 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Dr.  Bowman. 

BOSTON,  Jan.  n,  1858: 

MY  DEAR  DR.  BOWMAN,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and 
noble-spirited  letter,  which  I  have  just  read. 

I  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  make  headway  against  the  organ 
ized  errors  of  the  popular  theology.  It  is  so  here,  where  the 
mass  of  the  people  are  both  more  intelligent  and  more  reflect- 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  281 

ing  than  in  your  neighborhood.  Yet  such  is  the  vital  affinity 
between  truth  and  the  nature  of  man,  that  there  is  a  con 
tinual  and  obvious  progress  here.  A  great  change  has  taken 
place  in  the  theological  opinions  of  the  thoughtful  men  in 
New  England  within  ten  years.  In  twenty  more,  it  will  be 
very  great. 

Still  the  stationary  party  becomes  more  intense  in  its  conser 
vatism,  and  adopts  the  course  of  your  Presbyterian  friend.  At 
North  Woburn,  a  little  town  fourteen  miles  from  Boston,  a 
church  invited  a  Mr.  Nickerson  to  be  its  minister.  The  coun 
cil  came  to  ordain  the  young  candidate,  and  examined  him  to 
see  if  he  was  sound  in  the  faith.  He  was  right  in  all  points  but 
one  :  he  did  not  believe  the  eternal  damnation  of  babies \  dying 
newly  born.  The  council  refused  to  ordain  him,  and  adjourned 
for  eight  weeks,  when  they  will  come  together  again. 

The  council  never  asked  the  young  man  if  he  believed  in 
piety  and  morality,  the  substance  of  the  religion  which  he  ought 
to  teach  ;  but  pressed  only  the  questions  of  their  theology, 
and  insisted  on  the  worst  of  all.  In  1787,  Dr.  Townsend  found 
that  the  Spanish  physicians  knew  nothing  of  the  circulation  of 
the  blood,  and  the  young  candidates  for  the  honor  of  M.D. 
were  not  expected  to  believe  it ;  but,  before  admission  to  prac 
tice,  they  took  their  oath  that  they  believed  the  immaculate 
conception  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  It  was  not  so  ridiculous  as 
the  conduct  of  that  council.  The  method  of  men  of  science 
is  this  :  i.  To  accumulate  the  greatest  possible  number  of 
facts  ;  2.  To  induce  thence  a  general  law  which  is  common 
to  all  those  facts ;  3.  To  deduce  other  doctrines  from  that 
general  law;  and,  4.  To  make  practical  application  thereof 
to  such  cases  as  require  it :  so  his  doctrine  rests  on  facts, 
not  whims.  The  ministers'  method  is  to  assume  an  hypothesis 
to  be  true  on  the  testimony  of  nobody  knows  who,  and  thence 
deduce  doctrines  and  apply  them.  Thus  the  inspiration  of  the 
Bible,  the  Trinity,  the  Fall,  the  Devil,  Eternal  Damnation,  &c., 
are  not  supported  by  the  smallest  particle  of  evidence  in  the 
world :  there  is  no  fact  of  nature  or  of  human  history  to  sup 
port  them.  Doctors  can  do  a  deal  of  service  in  the  manner 
you  refer  to,  and  sow  seeds  by  the  wayside  which  the  fowls  of 
the  air  will  not  devour. 

I  agree  with  all  you  say  about  slavery  :  only  my  compassion 
24* 


282  THEODORE  PARKER. 

falls  more  on  the  negro,  who  is  the  unwilling  victim,  than  on  his 
masters,  who  might  set  him  free. 

Believe  me  heartily  yours, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Thomas  G.  Barnard,  Esq.)  Norway ',  Me. 

BOSTON,  March  30,  1853. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  interesting  and  welcome 
letter,  which  I  have  just  read.  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to 
know  of  such  men  as  yourself,  bred  by  deeply-religious 
parents  in  the  old  forms  of  religion,  yet  coming  out  of  bigotry 
into  freedom  with  a  continual  increase  of  piety,  and  faith  in 
God.  I  know  some  men  who  cast  off  the  old  forms  of  the 
ology  and  of  church  service  for  the  sake  of  getting  rid  of  the 
restraints  of  religion.  I  always  love  to  find  one  who  grows  in 
morality  as  he  advances  also  in  intellectual  freedom. 

I  know  many  persons  whose  history  is  the  same  as  yours. 
The  Methodist  Church  does  a  great  deal  of  good.  The  Method 
ist  minister,  poor,  badly  educated,  often  quite  ignorant,  goes 
amongst  men  more  ignorant  than  he,  and  rouses  up  the  religious 
spirit  in  their  souls,  and  quickens  them  with  new  life.  How 
many  thousands  of  men  there  are  who  owe  their  earthly  salva 
tion  to  the  labors  of  some  modest  minister  of  that  persuasion  ! 
I  have  great  respect  for  them.  But,  alas  !  they  bind  men  in 
fetters  ;  they  make  men  fear ;  they  drive  by  terror,  while  they 
ought  to  draw  by  love  ;  they  make  too  much  of  a  separation 
between  life  and  religion.  Their  idea  of  God  is  dark  and  sad ; 
so  is  their  notion  of  the  next  life.  But  when  one  comes  to  the 
conviction  that  God  is  infinite,  —  I  mean  perfectly  powerful,  per 
fectly  wise,  just,  loving,  and  faithful  to  himself, — then  the  great 
difficulty  is  over.  You  do  not  fear  God  :  you  love  him.  You 
will  not  seek  to  shun  his  laws,  but  to  keep  them  ;  and,  if  you 
fall  away  sometimes  through  the  strength  of  temptation  and 
the  weakness  of  your  character,  you  feel  mortified,  ashamed, 
and  penitent,  and  come  back  full  of  vigor  and  resolution  anew, 
and  go  on  your  way  rejoicing. 

I  am  sorry  I  did  not  know  you  while  you  were  here  in  Bos 
ton,  and  hope  you  will  continue  to  grow  in  all  religious  and 
manly  excellence. 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  283 


To  Robert  White,  Jun.,  New  York. 

BOSTON,  March  15,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  GOOD  FRIEND,  —  I  should  have  written  you  long 
ago  ;  but,  when  I  came  home  from  New  York,  I  had  another  of 
flie  comforts  of  Job,  which  seated  itself  on  my  right  hand,  so 
that  I  could  not  write  with  it.  Some  indispensable  letters  I 
wrote  with  the  left.  You  would  laugh  to  see  them,  but  give  up 
the  attempt  to  read.  Now  that  is  gone,  and  all  its  companions, 
I  hope.  I  was  never  better  than  now. 

Your  old  and  intimate  relative  has  taken  that  step  in  his  life 
which  we  commonly  call  death.  I  doubt  not  it  was  a  pleasant 
step  for  him  to  take ;  though  painful  always  it  must  be  for  us, 
the  living,  to  separate  from  such  as  go  to  a  higher  life.  But  there 
are  so  many  beautiful  associations  which  cling  to  those  we  love, 
and  come  out  with  all  the  more  beauty  when  they  cease  to  be 
mortal,  that  the  departure  of  a  friend  is  always  attended  with 
an  exaltation  of  our  spirits,  if  we  have  faith  in  the  infinite  good 
ness  of  the  great  Father. 

There  are  some  men  whom  I  pity  exceedingly  :  — 

1.  Such  as  have  no  belief  in  the  soul's  eternal  life,  and  look 
on  death  as  an  ultimate  fact. 

2.  Such  as  only  fear  a  God,  but  do  not  know  the  infinite 
Father  (and  infinite  Mother)  of  all  souls,  and  so  have  nothing 
on  which  they  can  perfectly  rely. 

I  meet  both  classes  of  men,  the  latter  oftenest ;  and  I  pity 
them  most  exceedingly.  To  one  the  grave  is  only  a  deep,  dark 
hole  in  the  ground  :  to  the  other  it  is  a  hole  which  leads  down 
to  hell. 

The  popular  religion  makes  death  a  most  formidable  enemy, 
a  thing  to  be  shuddered  at. 

I  am  amazed  at  the  feebleness  of  men's  faith  in  God. 
Death  is  one  step  in  our  progress.  Birth  was  a  step  once  ; 
but  birth  was  a  death  to  one  form  of  being,  and  death  is  a 
birth  into  another  form  of  being.  To  die  in  infancy,  youth,  or 
manhood,  does  not  seem  after  the  true  course  of  nature  ;  but  to 
die  in  old  age,  — 

"  Life's  blessings  all  enjoyed,  life's  duties  done,"  — 

that  is  no  misfortune,  but  a  blessing  also.     My  father,  when  an 


284  THEODORE  PARKER. 

old  man  (seventy  and  seven  years  old),  laid  down  his  weary 
mortal  bones,  and  was  glad  to  die.  We  wept  over  his  toil-worn 
hands  and  venerable  head,  which  we  had  kissed  so  many  a 
thousand  times ;  but  we  were  glad  that  the  dear  old  man 
rested  from  his  labors,  and  went  home  to  his  God  and  our  God, 
—  the  earthly  father  to  the  infinite  Father  and  Mother.  So 
shall  we  all  one  day  be  glad  to  go,  and  knock  with  our  feeble 
hand  at  our  Mother's  door.  "  Undo  the  gate,  and  let  me  in," 
shall  we  all  say,  as  we  go,  willing  and  welcome,  to  meet  her. 

I  hope  you  and  yours  are  all  well.     We  send  our  kindest 
salutations  to  you  all.     My  wife  and  Miss  Stevenson  admired 
your  daguerrotype,  and  thought  it  quite  faithful. 
Sincerely  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  J.  T.  Sargent. 

WEDNESDAY,  Dec.  18,  1844. 

DEAR  BROTHER,  —  Thanks  for  your  letter,  which  I  am  now 
hot  with  reading.  I  will  lecture,  as  you  say,  sell  tickets,  and  do 
any  thing,  for  so  good  a  cause.  I  wish  to  lecture  the  time  you 
mention  ;  for  I  shall  preach  the  Thursday  Lecture  that  day,  and 
so  shall  save  time.  Thank  you,  thank  you,  for  the  letter  !  But 
you  must  not  leave  "those  few  sheep  in  the  wilderness."  With 
whom  can  you  leave  them  ?  No,  no  !  Have  no  superstition 
about  injuring  "the  cause,"  or  hurting  the  feeling  of  the  "Fra 
ternity  of  Churches."  Take  a  hall,  and  preach  to  such  as  come. 
Let  the  "  brethren  "  fill  their  chapel  as  they  may  and  can.  Don't 
budge  an  inch.  I  look  on  this  holding  as  all  the  free  ground 
that  is  taken  in  the  city :  I  would  fight  for  it  to  the  last.  I 
don't  know  what  else  you  may  have  in  view ;  but  I  think  you  can 
do  nothing  better,  nothing  half  so  good,  as  to  continue  and 
preach  to  these  men  you  have  attached  to  you.  They  look  to 
you  for  help  in  time  of  trouble.  "  The  hireling  fleeth  when  he 
seeth  the  wolf  coming,"  &c. ;  "but  the  good  shepherd  gi 'veth  his 
life  for  his  sheep." 

Putnam  said,  yesterday,  he  did  not  see  the  necessity  of  your 
resigning.  I  do,  and  the  necessity  of  your  continuing  with 
your  old  friends.  But  what  do  I  say  ?  I  have  no  authority  to 
advise  any  one,  least  of  all  one  who  knows  his  duty  himself.  I 
only  fear  that  you  have  a  superstition  about  injuring  the  cause; 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  285 

while  I  think  you  will  injure  it  by  deserting  the  little  ones,  and 
so  causing  them  to  offend. 

Believe  me  most  heartily  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

A  second  letter  to  the  same  friend,  and  in  the  same 
strain,  will  not  seem  too  much  in  illustration  of  that  senti 
ment,  half  gratitude  and  half  compassion,  which  is  rare 
except  with  the  best  minds :  — 

To  J.  T.  Sargent. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Jan.  30,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  AND  BROTHER,  —  I  should  be  very  rec 
reant  to  my  own  inward  promptings  if  I  did  not  tell  you  how 
my  heart  feels  moved  towards  you  of  late,  and  how  much  I  feel 
grieved  at  your  troubles.  For  my  own  I  never  cared  much  : 
they  pass  by  me  as  the  wind.  I  open  a  book ;  I  walk  in  the 
fields :  they  fall  from  me  as  I  shake  the  loose  snow  from  my 
hat,  and  trouble  me  no  more.  My  dreams  are  sweet  as  a  boy's, 
so  calm  and  untroubled  !  But  it  gives  me  great  grief  and  pain 
that  I  have  unwittingly  brought  you  into  trouble.  What  can  I 
do  to  help  you  ?  I  know  not.  If  I  were  to  write  in  your  de 
fence,  you  would  say,  as  Brother  Young  at  Ellis's  ordination, 
"  Non  tali  auxilio"  &c. ;  and  I  should  do  you  more  harm  than 
good.  It  would  be  regarded  as  if  the  Devil  should  come  out 
and  defend  Job  from  those  excellent  "friends  "  who  fastened 
on  him  in  his  misfortunes.  I  can  give  you  my  sympathies : 
you  have  those  rich  and  abundant.  I  can  tell  you  how  much  I 
admire  your  spirit,  how  much  I  applaud  your  courage  (the 
courage  of  gentleness),  your  gentleness  too  (the  gentleness  of 
strength).  I  have  not  had  time  to  thank  you  for  your  noble  and 
manly  sermons.  They  are  the  true  expressions  of  a  noble 
spirit.  They  are  rich  in  magnanimity.  If  any  thing  had  been 
wanting  to  place  the  Fraternity  in  their  true  light,  it  was  the 
publication  of  the  last  sermon  you  preached  in  the  chapel.  I 
feel  for  you  ;  but  I  pity  the  Fraternity.  I  hope  I  feel  contempt 

for  none. 

"  I  pity  such  as  wicked  are ; 

I  pity  and  I  mourn  : 
But  the  great  God  hath  fashioned  them  ; 

And,  oh  I  I  dare  not  scorn." 


286  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Your  last  sermon  places  you  in  a  fine  light  before  the  public. 
It  has  the  rhetoric  of  facts  and  the  eloquence  of  truth.  I  know 
not  what  are  your  plans  for  the  future.  I  feel  almost  glad  that 
you  did  not  take  my  advice,  and  open  a  new  chapel  for  the  poor, 
and  yet  still  almost  sorry  you  did  not.  Do  you  think  the  Fra 
ternity  will  adhere  to  their  ground? — adhere  to  it,  and  not  expel 
me  ?  That  is  quite  inconsistent.  But  it  was  good-natured  and 
manly  to  appoint  the  committee  they  did  to  confer  with  me. 
Though  nothing  but  good  feeling  will  come  of  it,  it  is  worth 
while  to  have  that  among  brethren.  Tell  me  if  you  have  my 
"  Treatise  on  De  Wette  :  "  if  not,  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure 
to  send  you  a  copy. 

Believe  me  most  truly  your  Christian  brother, 

THEO.  PARKER, 

P.  S.  —  Give  all  cheering  regards  to  Mrs.  Sargent. 

To  S.  J.  May. 

OCT.  24,  1853. 

...  I  hope  you  read  "  The  Register  "  of  last  week  and  the 
account  of  the  Annual  Convention.  What  subjects  for  dis 
cussion  !  —  Have  we  a  litany  amongst  us  ?  Shall  we  have  one  ? 
That  is,  when  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peabody  reads,  "  The  Lord  delight- 

eth  not  in  the  strength  of  the  horse,"  whether  

and shall  respond,  "He  taketh  no  pleasure  in  the 

legs  of  a  man  ;  "  or  whether  Peabody  shall  drone  away  alone  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter. 

Again :  On  what  terms  shall  persons  be  admitted  to  the 
communion?  i.e.,  "on  what  terms"  shall  an  old  woman  be 
allowed  once  a  month,  in  a  meeting-house,  on  Sunday,  to  eat  a 
crumb  of  baker's  bread,  and  drink  a  sip  of  grocer's  wine,  which 
the  deacon  has  bought  at  a  shop  the  day  before  ? 

What  if  nobody  at  all  is  allowed  to  come  to  the  communion  ? 
will  not  Christendom  be  in  just  as  good  case  at  the  year's 

end  ?  What  if  everybody  eats  the  soda-biscuit  ( thinks 

that  is  the  "  unleavened  bread  "),  and  drinks  the  wine :  who  is 
the  worse  for  that  ?  Dear  me,  what  a  world  it  is  !  —  drunken 
ness  all  round  us ;  covetousness  eating  the  heart  out  of  society ; 
the  Fugitive-slave  Bill  making  it  incumbent  on  a  man  to  send 
back  his  own  mother  to  bondage ;  ministers,  with  kidnappers 
members  of  their  churches,  discussing  a  litany  and  the  terms 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  287 

of  admission  to  the  Lord's  Supper  !  Bless  me !  if  the  Naza- 
rene  were  there  at  the  Worcester  Convention,  I  think  he  would 
have  made  a  scourge  of  large  cords,  and  let  loose  upon  the 
assembly,  till  there  was  such  a  stampede  among  the  brethren  as 
one  does  not  often  see  among  the  reverend  clergy.  Well,  the 
age  is  leaving  these  old  boys  to  their  litanies,  and  their  commu 
nions,  and  their  miracles.  What  politician,  what  philanthropist, 
what  merchant  (of  any  head  at  all),  what  man  of  science,  cares  a 
pin  for  all  this  humbug  ?  Religion  rises  early  every  morning, 
and  works  all  day. 

Good-by ! 

THEO.  PARKER. 

Please  write  to  me  as  "  Mr.,"  not  "  Rev.,"  &c. 

Following  this  letter,  as  if  it  were  a  postscript,  is  a  note 
telling  Mr.  May  of  two  very  noble  and  beautiful  actions 
done  by  a  gentleman  between  whom  and  Mr.  Parker  no 
love  was  lost  in  the  fierce  times  of  political  strife.  The 
note  should  be  printed  but  for  the  necessary  mention  of 
private  affairs.  It  is  alluded  to  now  as  one  of  the  many 
instances  of  Mr.  Parker's  readiness  to  acknowledge  the 
personal  goodness  of  men  whose  public  course  he  felt 
compelled  to  assail.  That  he  was  always  successful  in 
rendering  this  species  of  charity  is  not  claimed ;  that  he 
always  tried  to  be  cannot  be  doubted  by  any  who  have 
read  his  private  papers. 

To  S.  J.  May. 

BOSTON,  June  17,  1851. 

DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  will  try  and  write  so  plain  that  you  can 
read  all  the  words.  I  write  on  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of 
Bunker  Hill,  because  I  know  you  were  one  of  the  chief  contrib 
utors  to  the  Monument  Fund,  and  will  be  pleased  to  be  associ 
ated  with  any  battle,  —  you  son  of  a  colonel,  you  !  So  much  for 
the  time  of  writing  :  now  for  the  matter  in  hand.  I  have  just 
had  a  letter  from  Dr.  Otto  Fock,  professor  of  philosophy  at 
Kiel  in  Denmark,  who  wants  to  come  to  America.  He  is 
about  forty  years  old,  learned  and  able,  but,  alas  !  a  republican. 


288  THEODORE  PARKER. 

He  cannot  live  in  Germany :  the  police  look  after  him  too  sharp. 
Can  we  do  any  thing  for  him  here  ?  He  is  learned  and  indus 
trious  ;  will  work.  Can  we  find  a  place  worthy  of  him  ?  He 
has  written  a  valuable  book,  —  history  of  "  Socinianismus." 
Perhaps  he  might  write  an  "  excellent  tra-a-a-ct "  for  Father 
Briggs,  or  prove  that  the  apostle  Thomas  was  a  Unitarian,  or, 
if  not  Thomas,  then  at  least  Jude,  or  Judas.  Besides  Dr. 
Fock,  another  German  doctor  of  philosophy  has  written  for  the 
same  purpose,  —  to  find  a  home  in  America.  He  is  a  philologian, 
(Dr.  Lobeck  from  Konigsberg),  a  learned  man,  librarian  of  the 
university  at  that  place.  He  has  written  some  books,  and  has 
been  an  editor  of  a  Volksbote  ("  People's  Messenger  "),  and  is  a 
democrat.  Do  tell  me  whether  we  can  do  any  thing  for  these 
noble-hearted  men. 

I  hope  you  will  not  let  the  committee  appointed  by  the 
ministerial  conference  go  to  sleep.  We  must  have  the  meeting, 
and  do  our  prettiest  to  have  justice  done  at  it.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  well  for  you  to  stir  up  Brother  Hall  to  greater 
diligence  in  this  matter ;  for  I  fear  that  evil  counsels  may  yet 
prevail.  With  best  regards  all  round,  believe  me 
Yours  heartily, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  S.  J.  May. 

DAY  AFTER  SECOND  PREACHING  DAY  IN  MARCH, 
SECOND  MONDAY  IN  LENT,  A.S.,  1854. 

DEAR,  BELOVED,  AND  MOST  REVEREND  FATHER, —  I  re 
joice  that  thou  art  in  so  good  a  work  as  confuting  the  heretics 
who  dare  lift  up  their  voices  against  the  most  ancient,  most 
orthodox,  and  infallible  church  of  the  Unitarians.  It  will  be 
easy  to  show  that  the  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel  was  a  Unita 
rian,  you  a  member  of  the  Boston  Association  of  Congregational 
Ministers.  This  is  the  way,  reverend  father :  Strike  out  all 
after  'Ev  apx^,  and  insert  our  "  excellent  tracts,"  —  the  apostle 
John  a  Unitarian.  By  a  similar  process,  it  may  be  shown  that 
the  apostle  Paul  was  also  a  Unitarian;  nay,  likewise,  Peter; 
that  the  author  of  the  Apocalypse  was  a  non-resistant.  It  is 
true,  in  the  text  he  makes  the  "  Lamb  "  take  charge  of  an  army 
of  two  hundred  million  horse,  and  destroy  one-third  part  of  the 
human  race,  and  then  tread  the  "  wine-press  of  the  wrath  of 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  289 

God,"  and  slaughter  men  till  he  make  a  blood-puddle  on  the 
earth  two  hundred  miles  wide  and  three  feet  deep  ;  and  then 
there  is  quite  a  portion  of  "  the  rest  of  mankind  "  who  are 
pitched  down  into  the  lake  of  fire,  whither  Death  and  Hell — Qava- 
rof  and  *A(%  —  had  preceded  them.  But  all  this,  O  father !  is  a 
delusion  of  2a#av,  who  will  deceive  the  very  elect  if  they  do  not 
keep  a  top-eye  open  and  a  bright  look-out.  The  Kaivij  Ataft^c? 
contains  nothing  but  a  revelation  of  the  most  mild  and  gentle 
characteristics  of  "  God  and  the  Lamb  :  "  all  else  is  a  delusion 
of  Satan,  whom  thou  wilt  put  to  rout  with  the  army  of  the 
aliens. 

I  send  thee,  O  father  !  a  copy  of  a  little  discourse  preached 
by  thy  son  touching  the  Nebraska  matters  ;  and  will  soon  send 
thee  another  adhuc  sub  prelo  sudans,  more  befitting  thy  vene 
rable  years  ;   to  wit,  "  A  Sermon  of  Old  Age." 
Vale,  pater  dilectissime, 

THEODORE. 

The  correspondent  who  drew  forth  the  next  long  letter 
on  a  most  important  subject  much  discussed  at  present, 
and  likely  to  be  discussed  more  still,  was  one,  of  those 
estimable  men  whose  spirit  always  teaches  truth,  whatever 
may  be  thought  of  their  opinions.  The  contents  of  the 
epistle  are  not,  perhaps,  striking  for  originality ;  but  we 
learn  to  admire  commonplace,  when  a  sorely-vexed  man 
patiently  employs  them  as  the  only  weapons  at  his  com 
mand.  They  illustrate,  at  least,  the  excellent  quality  of 
the  writer's  heart,  which  will  not  be  wearied  by  any  drain 
made  on  the  hours. 

To  Robert  White,  Jun. 

BOSTON,  Dec.  31,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Soon  as  I  received  your  last  letter,  1 
set  myself  seriously  to  work  to  write  an  answer  in  detail.  But 
continued  interruption  for  the  sake  of  other  duties  renders  it 
impossible  that  I  should  be  able  to  do  this :  therefore  I  will  limit 
myself  to  considerations  of  a  more  general  character,  which 
require  less  time  and  space,  and  leave  the  other  matter  to  be 
talked over  some  time  when  we  may  meet,  as  I  trust  we  shall ; 
25 


290  THEODORE  PARKER. 

for  a  little  conversation  will  do  more  than  a  good  deal  of 
writing. 

I  shall  take  it  for  granted,  that  in  making  man  male  and 
female,  providing  them  with  instinctive  desires  for  union,  and 
providing  no  other  way  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  race  except 
by  such  union,  God  established  marriage  in  the  very  nature 
of  man's  body.  I  think  the  spirit  of  one  sex  is  as  incomplete 
without  the  other  as  the  body,  and  that  there  is  as  much  a 
spiritual  desire  for  the  spirit  of  the  other  sex  in  men  and 
women  as  a  bodily  desire  for  the  bodies  of  the  opposite  sex, 
only  in  most  persons  it  is  not  so  strong.  On  these  two  points 
I  think  we  do  not  differ. 

Now  the  question  comes,  Did  Jesus  Christ  intend  to  forbid 
marriage  to  his  followers  ?  or,  allowing  it,  did  he  think  celibacy 
the  better  state  ? 

Before  answering  that  question,  it  is  necessary  to  look  a  little 
at  the  state  of  opinion  in  the  world  about  him  on  this  matter. 

I.  The  Jews  considered  marriage  necessary  and  sacred.    Celi 
bacy  in  a  man  was  thought  impious,  in  a  woman  disgraceful  (see 
Isa.  iv.  I) ;    but  afterwards   marriage  got  into  worse  repute 
among  the  Jews,  and  moralists  found  it  necessary  to  commend 
marriage   (see,   e.g.,  Ecclus.  xxxvi. .  24-26 ;    xxvi.   1-3,   13-16, 
20-21 ;  xl.  23,  and  other  passages).     At  length  there  grew  up  a 
sect  which  abandoned  marriage,  —  the  Essenes  :  they  had  some 
excellent  ideas,  it  seems,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  influence  on 
the  early  Christians  in  many  matters. 

II.  Amongst  the  heathens,  marriage  was  generally  held  in 
esteem  ;  or,  at  any  rate,  celibacy  was  not  much  allowed  or  prac 
tised.     Still  it  was  sometimes  practised  as  a  religious  duty  by 
a  caste  of  men  or  women  :  the  vestal  -virgins  are  examples. 

In  the  offering  of  sacrifices,  it  seems  early  to  be  thought 
that  what  was  most  valuable  to  men,  or  most  dear,  was  also  the 
most  acceptable  offering  to  God.  Hence  the  fruits  of  pastoral 
life  (oxen,  &c.)  or  of  agricultural  life  (wheat,  fruit,  &c.), 
and  not  the  spontaneous  productions  of  the  earth,  were  the 
sacrifice.  As  the  organs  of  generation  were  of  value  in  keep 
ing  the  race  in  existence,  and  in  satisfying  the  instinct  of  man, 
in  a  fit  of  religious  excitement  men  mutilated  themselves  in 
the  name  of  God  (the  priests  of  Cybele  are  examples  of  this), 
and  others  made  a  vow  of  temporary  or  continual  chastity. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  291 

III.  The  Hebrews  never  had  a  high  idea  of  woman.    Man 
is  created  for  his  own  sake,  woman  to  be  a  help-meet  for  him 
(Gen.  ii.  18-24).     Man  is  of  God;  woman  only  of  man,  and  for 
man.     This,  also,  is  Paul's  notion  (i  Cor.  xi.  7,  &c.).     The  com 
mon  notion  of  woman  in  the  Old  Testament  is,  that  she  is  a 
wanton,  a  drudge,  or  a  shrew.     She  lost  us  paradise  ;  her  heart 
is  "  snares  and  nets."   "  Any  wickedness  but  that  of  woman  " 
was  a  proverb.     Among  the  heathens  there  was  great  wanton 
ness  :  there  was  among  the  Jews,  to  judge  from  complaints  in 
the  Old  Testament,  and  the  numerous  words  the  Hebrew  lan 
guage  has  for  the  crime  of  sensuality. 

IV.  These  things  being  so,  it  is  not  at  all  surprising  that 
some  of  the  Christians  thought  it  best  to  cut  off  that  passion 
altogether,  which  they  found  it  difficult  to  regulate ;  not  surpris 
ing  that  they  thought  they  ought  to  sacrifice  their  powers  of 
generation,  as   the  vestals   or   priests   of    Cybele    had    done. 
Especially  would  this  be  so  among  the  rigid  Christians ;  and 
the  persecutions  tended  to  make  them  all  rigid.     Still  more,  if 
men  came  from  the  Essenes  to  Christianity,  would  they  bring 
their  own  notions  of  marriage  with  them. 

This  being  the  case,  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  St. 
Paul  speak  of  marriage  as  he  does.  But  yet  further :  the  early 
Christians  thought  the  world  was  soon  to  end,  —  in  their  life 
time  :  so  marriage  was  not  needful  to  perpetuate  the  race.  So 
Paul  suffers  it  for  such  as  cannot  do  without  it ;  but  to  him  it 
was  a  mere  physical  necessity,  not  at  all  a  spiritual  affection, 
which  led  to  wedlock.  I  am  not  surprised  to  see  such  language 
attributed  to  Jesus  as  occurs  in  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke. 
But  I  do  not  find  reason  to  believe  that  Jesus  was  at  all  desir 
ous  of  disturbing  the  natural  order  of  things  in  relation  to  this 
affair.  Still  I  think  such  opinions  were  attributed  to  him 
before  the  fourth  Gospel  was  written  ;  for  in  that  Christ  is  said 
to  work  his  first  miracle  at  a  marriage.  It  seems  to  me  the  au 
thor  meant  to  show  that  Christ  sanctioned  marriage  and  the 
use  of  wine,  of  which  Christ  makes  three  or  four  barrels  for  the 
occasion.  Now,  if  Christ  intended  to  overthrow  and  supersede 
the  union  of  the  sexes,  I  think  he  would  not  have  left  it  at  all 
ambiguous,  but  would  have  said  so  with  great  plainness,  speak 
ing  as  distinctly  as  he  did  of  the  sabbath  and  of  the  Jewish  insti 
tutions,  —  fasts  and  the  like.  Many  of  the  interpretations  of  Mr. 


292  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Dunlary  seem  to  me  mistaken  ;  e.g.,  his  account  of  "  the  abomi 
nation  of  desolation  "  seems  to  me  wholly  a  mistake  :  yet  in 
other  passages  he  shows  a  great  degree  of  ingenuity  as  well  as 
fairness,  and  I  feel  much  respect  for  the  man.  But  you  see 
how  much  time  it  would  take  for  me  to  go  over  the  whole  mat 
ter,  text  for  text :  it  would  require  me  to  write  a  great  book, 
which  I  have  not  time  or  health  to  undertake.  I  hope  you  will 
forgive  me  for  my  long  delay  and  neglect :  I  know  you  would 
if  you  knew  the  amount  of  matter  which  I  must  attend  to. 
Allow  me  to  wish  you  a  happy  New  Year. 

And  believe  me  your  friend, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  J.  B.  Parker. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Aug.  29,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  JOHN,  —  I  told  you  I  despised  the  study  of 
heraldry  :  I  have  yet  wasted  some  little  time  over  Guillim  and 
other  writers  on  that  theme.  I  am  quite  up  to  giving  any  in 
formation  about  the  noble  family  of  Kettles.  The  motto  is, 

"NE  CALL  THE  POT  BLACK." 

It  is  a  most  ancient  family.  It  is  related  to  the  Pots,  the  Skil 
lets,  the  Patty-Pans,  the  Porringers,  and  divers  other  great  and 
noble  families  in  all  civilized  countries.  Lord  Copper-Kettle, 
Baron  Stew-Pan,  and  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Brass-Kettle,  are 
all  branches  of  this  family  :  so  is  that  famous  champion,  Sir 
Kettle-Drum;  and  he  is  soon  to  be  elevated  to  the  peerage.  The 
family  of  Boilers  is  of  the  same  descent,  but  were  for  a  long 
time  in  obscurity,  devoted  mainly  to  agriculture  and  domestic 
economy.  But  lately  some  of  the  family  have  entered  the 
marine  service,  and  have  done  great  honor  to  their  family; 
while  others  have  become  famous  on  land.  Lord  Steamboat- 
Boiler  and  Sir  Fizaway-Locomotive  are  of  this  latter  class.  It 
is  thought  this  branch  of  the  family  will  surpass  all  others. 
Indeed,  some  of  them  have  been  so  elated  by  success,  that 
they  have  actually  burst;  and  this,  by  the  way,  is  the  great 
danger  to  which  this  family  is  subject.  You  will  find  all  about 
the  stock,  &c.,  in  Burke's  "  Peerage  "  or  "  Commoners,"  &c. 
What  you  say  of  Salem  is  pretty  true,  but  not  wholly.  There 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  293 

are,  as  I  know  very  well,  some  noble  exceptions  to  what  you 
state  as  the  general  rule. 

If  you  want  any  books  from  time  to  time,  let  me  know,  and 
I  think  I  can  procure  them  for  you.  But  Emmeline  tells  me 
you  sit  up  late.  Now,  that  is  quite  —  nay,  almost  —  as  bad  as 
lying  late.  Be  sure  you  will  repent  it.  If  your  eyes  are  sore, 
go  to  bed ;  go  to  sleep.  You  must  mind  me.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  violating  a  law  of  Nature.  The  laws  God  wrote  on 
the  body  are  quite  as  binding  as  the  ten  commands  which 
Moses  wrote  on  stone.  KEEP  THE  COMMANDMENTS. 
And  believe  me  truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Horace  Coolidge,  Boston. 

WEST  NEWTON,  Aug.  31,  1852. 

MY  YOUNG  FRIEND,  —  As  you  are  about  commencing  the 
study  of  your  profession,  I  wish  to  give  you  a  word  of  advice. 
The  study  and  practice  of  the  law  has  this  advantage,  —  that  it 
keeps  the  intellectual  faculties  in  a  great  activity ;  at  least,  some 
of  them.  And  I  notice,  in  general,  that  lawyers  are  more 
eminently  intellectual  than  any  other  class  of  men,  unless  it  be 
men  of  science  and  authors  by  profession.  But  the  law  has 
these  disadvantages  :  I.  That  it  exercises  and  develops  the 
intellectual  to  the  detriment  of  the  other  and  higher  faculties  ; 
and,  2.  That  it  does  not  allow  a  very  complete  and  generous 
development  of  the  intellect  itself,  especially  of  the  higher  de 
partments  thereof,  —  say  the  reason  and  imagination,  —  but 
only  of  the  understanding.  Most  of  the  lawyers  that  I  have 
known  are  examples  of  this  defective  and  vicious  develop 
ment.  Indeed,  most  of  the  lawyers  that  I  know  make  a  mere 
money-getting  trade  of  their  profession,  and  no  science  at  all : 
so  that  with  them  law  is  not  a  liberal  pursuit,  only  a  head-craft ; 
and  they  are  only  mechanics  at  law,  with  little  more  elevation, 
and  sometimes  less,  than  is  law  to  a  handicraft. 

I  take  it  you  wish  to  be,  first,  a  complete  man,  with  all  your 
faculties  harmoniously  developed ;  and  next  a  complete  lawyer, 
master  of  your  calling,  and  eminent  in  it,  enjoying,  accord 
ingly,  the  emoluments  and  honors  thereof.  So  I  hope  you  will 
take  pains  to  avoid  the  common  evils  of  the  profession,  and 
25* 


294  THEODORE  PARKER. 

get  a  wide  intellectual    expansion.     To  help  in  this   matter, 
there  are  several  things  which  may  be  recommended :  — 

I.  One  is  the  study  of  metaphysics  :  that  forces  you  to  look 
at  first  principles,  and  study  the  laws  of  Nature  and  the  con 
stitution  of  the  universe,  and  helps  to  correct  the  one-sidedness 
and  partialism  of  the  ordinary  lawyer.     But  there  seems  to  be 
a  sort  of  repugnance  between  law  and  metaphysics.     I  never 
knew  a  lawyer  that  cared  much  for  that  pursuit ;  and,  of  all  the 
eminent  metaphysicians,  I  remember  no  one  that  was  a  lawyer. 
Besides,  to  prosecute  this  study  with  success,  or  even  pleasure, 
there  must  be  a  certain  natural  inclination  that  way.     If  you 
have  it,  I  hope  you  will  continue  your  interest  in  metaphysical 
studies  all  your  life. 

II.  Next  the  study  of  natural  science :  this  has  a  fine  effect 
in  widening  the  reach  of  thought  and  the  range  of  observation, 
and  so  helps  the  intellectual  development  of  man.     Few  law 
yers  attend  to  this  at  all.     The  same  one-sidedness  which  keeps 
them  from  the  study  of  the  permanent-abstract  of  metaphysics 
deters  them  from  the  permanent-concrete  of  natural  science. 
So  they  look  on  the  arbitrary  statutes  of  men,  which  are  only  a 
temporary  accident  of  development,  as  if  they  were  absolute 
and  fixed,  as  much  as  the  permanent-abstract  or  the  permanent- 
concrete  mentioned  above.     A  statute  is  a  temporary  rule  of 
conduct  devised  to  suit  the  passing  emergency.     The  metaphy 
sician  and  the  naturalist  deal  with  natural  laws,  which  are  the 
constant  modes  of  operation  of  the  forces  of  the  universe;  the 
lawyers  deal  with  those  statutes  which  are  the  variables  of  man; 
while  the  philosopher  deals  with  those  laws  which  are  the  con 
stants  of  God.     But  the  misfortune  of  the  lawyer  is,  that  he 
looks  on  his  human  variables  as  if  they  were  as  permanent  and 
as  absolutely  imperative  as  the  divine  constants,  the  laws  of 
matter  or  of  mind.     Hence  he  loses  his  natural  conscience,  and 
gets  a  fictitious  and  artificial  conscience  ;    loses  the  conscience 
of  nature,  and  gets  the  conscience  of  Doctors'*  Commons,  or  of 
the  Old  Bailey,  or  of  the  Supreme  Court.     The  study  of  science 
helps  correct  this  ;  yet  I  fear  few  lawyers  care  much  for  sci 
ence.     Judge   Parsons   was   a  man   of  large   scientific   attain 
ments  :  John  Pickering,  also,  —  a  quite  uncommon  man  in  many 
respects,  —  was  quite  familiar  with  the  highest  results  of  science. 
Both  of  these  men  were  better  lawyers,  as  well  as  more  com- 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  295 

plete  men,  for  this  scientific  development.  I  know  a  young 
lawyer  who  had  to  manage  a  case  of  damages  for  injury  done 
to  cows  by  water  artificially  contaminated,  who,  in  preparing 
for  the  case,  set  himself  to  study  the  physiology  of  the  cow,  and 
so  understand  the  effects  of  poison  upon  her.  That  was  the 
true  way  for  a  scientific  lawyer  to  go  to  work  :  the  rule  applies 
everywhere.  But  I  believe  lawyers,  in  general,  have  a  profes 
sional  dislike  for  physics  as  well  as  metaphysics.  I  do  -not 
know  whether  you  have  any  decided  natural  fondness  for  sci 
ence  ;  and,  if  you  have  not,  I  should  not  look  in  this  quarter  for 
the  corrective  to  the  one-sidedness  of  legal  studies. 

III.  Here  is  a  thircj  thing  ;  viz.,  the  study  of  human  history  : 
I  mean  (i)  the  study  of  political  national  history, —  the  develop 
ment  of  Rome,  France,  England,  &c. ;  and  (2)  universal-human 
history,  —  the  development  of  mankind.  Both  of  these  will 
be  of  great  advantage  to  you,  first  as  a  man,  and  next  as  a  law 
yer.  Historical  knowledge  is  of  immense  importance  :  its  prac 
tical  application  to  the  purpose  of  the  lawyer  is  obvious  enough. 
Hence  lawyers,  though  ignorant  of  physics  and  metaphysics,  are 
better  versed  in  history  than  any  other  class  of  educated  men 
(excepting  professors  of  that  department  whose  knowledge 
is  a  technical  affair).  But  here  the  vicious  development  of  the 
lawyer  appears  again :  he  attends  only  to  the  transient  things 
of  history,  and  not  the  permanent  laws  of  development ;  to  the 
variables  of  enactment,  not  to  the  constants  of  nature.  The 
study  of  the  gradual  evolution  of  any  particular  nation,  —  say 
the  Romans  or  the  Anglo-Saxons,  —  with  its  domestic,  social, 
national  institutions,  will  be  of  great  advantage  to  you.  It  is 
not  of  much  importance  to  know  whether  Gen.  Fairfax  chargeci 
up  hill  or  down  hill,  wore  a  blue  feather  or  a  red  one,  or  whether 
his  military  breeches  were  of  plush  or  fustian  ;  but  it  is  of 
'great  importance  to  know  what  ideas  were  in  his  head  or  in,  the 
heads  of  his  opponents  and  of  his  soldiers,  and  what  organiza 
tion  those  ideas  got  in  the  world. 

I  hope  you  will  study  carefully  the  political  history  of  some 
of  the  leading  nations,  especially  of  the  Roman  and  Anglo- 
Saxon  :  it  will  be  of  great  advantage  to  you.  But  you  will  be 
profited  by  studying  also  the  gradual  evolution  of  mankind 
from  savagedom  to  its  present  development.  I  hope  you  will 
study  the  history  of  the  legal  institutions  (and  enactments)  of 


296  THEODORE  PARKER. 

various  countries  as  well  as  of  your  own.  It  is  unfortunate 
that  there  is  no  good  account  of  the  development  of  English 
law.  There  are  much  better  accounts  of  the  history  of  the 
Roman,  the  German,  and  the  French  law,  in  Latin,  in  German, 
or  in  French.  I  hope  in  the  course  of  your  life  you  may  become 
acquainted  with  all  these  three.  Your  acquaintance  with  German 
will  help  you  in  this  matter ;  for  the  best  book  on  the  historical 
development  of  law  in  England  has  been  written,  not  in  English, 
but  in  German.  But,  in  the  course  of  your  preparatory  studies, 
I  suppose  you  will  not  take  a  very  wide  range  :  that  will  come 
later,  when  your  wings  are  grown.  I  cannot  fail  to  think  that 
a  careful  study  of  history  will  be  of  great  help  to  you. 

IV.  The  study  of  belles-lettres  I  suppose  I  need  not  speak 
of  :  the  general  stream  of  custom  will  carry  you  thither.  But  I 
would  not  waste  my  time  on  mean  authors  :  I  would  study  the 
masters  of  poetry  before  I  played  with  their  apprentices,  and 
still  more  before  I  played  with  lackeys  of  the  apprentices.  You 
see  uneducated  people  waste  a  whole  evening  in  silly  talk  about 
silly  men  or  women.  It  is  still  worse  for  an  "  educated  man  " 
to  waste  his  time  on  silly  books  :  they  are  always  bad  company. 
The  books  of  great  men  will  be  good  company,  —  the  great 
poets,  English,  French,  German,  Italian,  Greek,  and  Latin ; 
dramatists,  moralists,  essayists,  £c. 

The  study  and  practice  of  the  law  tend  to  weaken  the  moral 
sense  and  to  quicken  the  intellectual  powers.  I  trust  that  your 
respect  for  the  integrity  of  your  own  character,  and  your  rever 
ence  for  the  Infinite  God,  will  keep  you  from  the  moral  ruin  of 
which  the  courts  present  so  many  examples.  You  need  not 
fear  that  you  shall  suffer  as  a  lawyer  for  what  you  gain  as  a 
man.  A  reputation  for  strict  veracity,  integrity,  and  honesty, 
will  be  most  eminently  valuable  to  you  as  a  lawyer :  it  will 
give  you  the  best  kind  of  business  of  the  best  men.  I  am  glad 
you  are  to  study  with  Mr.  Charles  G.  Loring ;  for  I  take  it  his 
moral  character  is  loftier  than  that  of  any  lawyer  of  his  age  in 
Boston  :  his  personal  influence  will  be  good,  and  greatly  good. 
I  need  not  say  to  you  that  I  think  there  is  no  real  nobleness  of 
manly  character  without  manly  religion,  the  love  of  God,  and 
the  love  of  man.  I  wish  you  great  joy  and  great  manhood  in 
the  profession  you  have  chosen,  and  am 
Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  297 

The  following  familiar  letters  illustrate  the  pleasantry 
of  his  mind,  and  his  unbounded  affectionateness  of  dis 
position.  As  the  overflow  of  his  friendliness,  they  are 
printed  just  as  they  were  written. 

To  Miss . 

BOSTON,  June  6,  1851. 

DEAR  OLD  LADYE,  —  Now  she  shall  have  a  letter,  though 
she  has  not  yet  written  me  one.  I  felt  grim  as  a  bear  all  the 
time  I  was  at  Northampton.  I  don't  know  why,  unless  it  was 
the  beginning  of  a  certain  biliousness,  which  oranges  and  rhu 
barb  are  to  drive  away.  At  any  rate,  I  felt  as  gloomy  as  a 
snake  in  October.  I  hope  I  shall  behave  better  next  time. 

Well,  the  world  goes  on  here  after  the  old  sort.  Wednesday, 
Mrs.  R.  came  and  passed  the  day  with  dear  old  Mites  d1  Teants 
and  Bits  o'  Blossoms  too.  We  had  a  nice  time  of  it.  Teantie 
had  her  rides  in  "  express-trains,"  on  "  Bessie,"  and  the  "  colo 
nel,"  and  all  that;  her^/j-,  &c.  Nay,  I  tried  to  find  her  a  Lab- 
bit  in  the  toy-shops,  but  got  a  Cochon  instead,  which  the  Mites 
pronounced  to  be  a  pigh,  and  was  delighted  with  Mr.  Cochon. 
Blossoms  sprawled  out  his  legs, —  and  such  legs  !  —  and  purred 
and  mooed ;  and,  when  any  thing  displeased  him,  he  said, 
"  Waugh "  with  a  deep  grunting  tone.  The  children  quite 
eclipsed  their  mother ;  but  we  all  had  a  nice  time. 

There  is  to  be  a  Thompson  Festival  on  the  i6th  of  June 
(he  goes  off  to  England  the  I7th),  and  you  ought  to  be  there.  T. 
will  speak  an  hour  by  "  Shrewsbury  clock."  We  expect  a  great 
gathering  of  the  Simon  Pures.  (Here  I  ought  to  stop  to  shoot 
at  my  bill  with  one  of  Dr.  Wesselhoeft's  bullets.)  There  !  the 
association  of  ideas  carries  me  off  to  the  ship,  and  J.  P.  Blanch- 
ard,  and  the  sea-voyage  he  will  enjoy  with  Thompson.  Well, 
let  that  go. 

I  have  finished  the  Life  of  Wordsworth,  and  got  a  straw  hat 
— manilla — just  like  the  old  one  raised  from  the  dead;  and  that 
is  all  I  have  done  this  week.  Wordsworth  was  a  dear  old 
granny,  with  a  most  hearty  love  of  mankind,  especially  of  the 
least  attractive  portions  of  it,  —  beggars  and  fools,  and  Bishop 
Doane,  who  he  thinks  was  a  great  and  good  man.  Words 
worth  heard  him  preach  once  at  London ;  saw  him  at  his 


298  THEODORE  PARKER. 

(Wordsworth's)  house,  and  liked  him  much.  If  Wordsworth 
had  lived  a  little  in  London,  and  felt  the  presence  of  some  one 
who  was  manly  and  differed  from  him,  it  would  have  done 
him  service.  He  runs  in  a  narrow  round  of  objects,  ideas, 
and  sentiments ;  is  humane  (and  means  to  be  so  in  his  penal 
sonnets),  devout,  self-denying,  and  genial:  but  he  lived  too 
much  in  solitude,  was  too  much  with  his  worshippers,  and 
limited  himself  in  his  reading.  He  loved  his  neighbors  and 
their  little  bits  o'  blossoms.  His  domestics  he  treated  in  the 
most  Christian  way,  —  like  his  own  sisters.  I  love  the  man  the 
more  after  reading  all  the  twaddle  of  his  letters  and  talk.  He 
was  like  Dr.  Channing  and  William  Silsbee  united.  But  he 
was  the  most  self-conscious  poet  I  remember  to  have  read  or 
read  of :  he  knows  the  anatomy  of  his  own  mind  as  if  he  took 
himself  to  pieces.  There  was  more  of  will  in  his  poetry  than 
you  commonly  find.  Things  were  so  because  William  Words 
worth  would  have  them  so.  They  grew  out  of  his  will  more 
than  out  of  his  whole  nature.  But  I  love  the  dear  old  poetical 
Betty  more  after  reading  his  Life  than  before.  You  will  rejoice 
in  the  book,  which  will  wait  for  you  when  you  return. 

Susan  has  gone  home  ;  sister  sick  ;  mother  ailing.  The  cat 
mews  at  your  door,  and  will  not  be  comforted.  He  sends  you 
his  best  purr-r-r,  to  which  I  have  just  room  enough  for  mine. 
Lots  of  love  to  all  the  Hunts  and  Miss  A.,  and  quantities  of 
kisses  to  the  Mites  o'  Willy.  "Bits"  can't  say  papa;  but 
"  Mites  "  counts  one,  two,  fwee,  four. 

WEST  NEWTON,  Wednesday,  Sept.  15,  1852. 

POOR  OLD  LAD  YE,  —  Presently  after  reading  the  Life  and  Let 
ters  of  Byron  and  Goethe,  I  read  also  that  of  Admiral  Robert 
Blake.  You  know  he  was  first  a  Puritan  soldier,  and  held  out 
the  town  of  Lyme  against  Prince  Rupert,  and  subsequently  the 
city  of  Taunton  (if  city  it  were),  both  in  a  most  extraordinary 
and  successful  manner;  next  he  was  admiral,  and  such  an 
admiral !  Cromwell  on  the  land  was  the  equal  of  Blake  on  the 
sea.  He  fought  the  Dutch,  and  swept  the  famous  and  formida 
ble  Van  Tromp  out  of  the  Channel.  He  went  off  to  the  Medi 
terranean,  and  levied  contributions  on  the  cities  of  Italy,  Genoa, 
Leghorn,  Rome,  Naples,  and  on  Tunis.  He  humbled  the  Span 
iards  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New.  A  man  of  not  many  words  ; 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  299 

a  compact,  resolute  man,  of  the  most  formidable  action.  Well, 
Goethe's  and  Byron's  lives  seem  little,  mean,  and  trifling,  after 
such  a  man,  and  more  wicked  ;  for,  in  all  Blake's  dreadful 
slaughters,  there  was  conscience  and  humanity  at  the  bottom  of 
the  man.  I  should  rather  be  Blake  sweeping  Tromp  out  of  the 
Channel  for  the  nation's  sake,  and  (as  he  thought)  for  justice1 
sake,  than  Byron  sending  for  the  police  to  turn  the  Venetian 
woman  out  of  his  house,  or  Goethe  breaking  the  heart  (so 
cruelly  and  wantonly)  of  pure,  good  Frederika  von  Sesenheim. 
It  seems  to  me  less  to  answer  for  before  man  and  God.  Then  the 
lives  of  these  literary  men  seem  to  me  intensely  frivolous,  and 
scarred  all  over  with  egotism  and  selfishness.  Goethe  wastes 
how  much  time  in  nonsensical  study  of  form,  and  in  vain 
dramas,  Grosskophtas,  &c.  !  I  felt  often  a  great  disgust  at  the 
sight  of  so  much  g£nie  directed  to  such  trifles  as  he  spent 
much  of  his  time  upon.  After  all,  Goethe  was  less  of  a  man 
than  Voltaire.  Both  wrought  wholly  by  the  pen,  —  or  chiefly. 
Voltaire  influenced  his  own  age  vastly  more  than  Goethe,  and 
will  reach  much  farther  into  the  future.  His  influence  was  better 
in  kind,  as  well  as  greater.  As  a  philosopher,  Voltaire  was  more, 
more  as  a  poet,  and,  including  prose  as  well  as  rhythmic  works, 
more  as  a  man.  I  suppose  it  would  be  thought  treason  to  say 
this  ;  but  it  is  true. 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  went  over  to  West  Roxbury  to  see  the 
old  familiar  places,  not  the  people.  So  I  sat  down  on  the  seat 
under  the  willow,  and  went  to  my  old  haunts  in  the  woods  and 
elsewhere,  and  got  my  favorite  flowers  in  the  favorite  spots.  But 
it  was  very  sad,  very  sad,  —  this  body  of  a  place  after  you  have 
been  born  out  of  it.  It  is  a  little  curious  that  such  a  man  should 
live  in  our  old  house,  and  drink  his  wine  in  my  old  study,  and 
grow  his  hunkerism.  I  should  feel  uncomfortable  to  do  such 
things  in  a  place  where  such  different  ones  had  been  done. 
Poor  old  ladye  !  When  will  she  come  home  ?  House  empty, 
papered,  and  'varnished,  but,  alas  !  not  yet  swept. 

Boo! 

MONDAY  NIGHT,  Feb.  2,  1852. 

DEAR  POOR  OLD  LADYE, —  This  is  the  last  letter  I  have  the 
time  to  write  before  I  get  home.  To-day  I  went  with  Sam  Jo 
May  —  the  best  man  in  this  world  ;  and,  if  there  are  any  better 


300  THEODORE  PARKER. 

in  the  next>  I  shall  be  all  the  more  glad  when  I  get  there  —  to 
see  the  Onondaga  Indians.  Queer  folks,  these  red  men  !  I  did 
not  find  a  squaw  fit  to  bring  home,  nor  a  pappoose  that  I  liked. 
Saw  some  real  Pagan  Indians  ;  went  into  their  council-house, 
church,  and  several  houses.  Saw  squaws  and  sawnups  and 
iktashes,  and  the  like  ;  got  them  to  read  some  Indian  books  to 
me  to  get  the  pronunciation.  Saw  the  missionary,  —  a  real 
nice  man  for  the  place,  with  a  real  nice  wife.  Sam  Jo  is  at  work 
on  the  Indians,  for  the  Indians,  and  with  the  Indians.  He  has 
done  a  deal  for  them  since  he  has  been  here,  and  will  do  much 
more. 

Ah,  me  !  I  wish  I  was  at  home  ;  but  home  shall  I  be  before 
long.  I  think  of  all  the  good  folks,  —  when  you  lie  down,  when 
you  rise  up,  when  eat  dinner,  supper,  &c.  But  I  have  had  a 
nice  time  ;  and,  though  I  have  had  no  great  audiences,  I  yet  have 
had  a  good  time.  To-night  I  had  a  fine  audience  in  the  city 
hall.  Emerson  comes  this  week,  Friday.  I  give  'em  the  devil 
on  Wednesday.  At  Buffalo  I  saw  my  "  Brother  "  Hosmer.  I 
did  not  venture  to  call  on  him  without  his  calling  on  me  first :  so 
I  only  saw  him  after  the  lecture.  Good-by  ! 

Love  to  all.  I  shall  take  the  cars  from  here  Wednesday 
night  at  nine  or  at  twelve,  and  ride  all  night. 

Parker's  familiar  letters  bubbled  with  humor,  running 
all  the  way  from  pleasantry  to  fun ;  not  always  graceful, 
but  always  characteristic,  sometimes  expressing  the  hilar 
ity  of  his  own  mood,  and  sometimes  designed  to  touch 
with  mirth  the  moods  of  his  correspondents.  In  this  gro 
tesque  way  he  ministered  to  his  own  and  to  other  minds 
diseased.  A  few  short  examples  of  this  must  be  given  in 
notes  and  extracts.  The  dates  are  of  small  moment.  This 
note  was  written  on  a  piece  of  birch-bark  :  — 

No  PLACE,  N.H.,  Aug.  12,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  S.,  —  I  am  in  such  a  wilderness,  that  you  will 
excuse  me  for  writing  on  such  rude  material.  I  peeled  it  from 
a  tree  to-day  in  order  to  let  you  know  what  a  savage  country  I 
have  wandered  into.  Last  night  I  lodged  with  a  man  who  chops 
wood  in  the  mountains  all  winter,  and  drives  his  logs  to  market 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  301 

down  the  river.  It  is  so  wild,  that  we  walked  twenty  miles  to 
day  in  a  howling  wilderness.  At  one  man's  cabin  we  saw  the 
skin  of  a  bear,  newly  slain,  nailed  on  the  side  of  his  house. 
Another  with  whom  we  lodged  told  us  the  bears  killed  six  of  his 
sheep  last  spring  ;  they  ate  up  his  apples,  and  broke  the  trees 
down  ;  they  devoured  his  rye  and  his  pumpkins. 

You  may  judge  what  a  dreadful  place  it  is,  and  so  hot  that  I 
have  bathed  four  times  to-day ;  and  still  the  thermometer  is  80° 
in  the  shade.  Bathing  won't  bring  it  down. 

I  send  this  by  the  hand  of  a  valiant  young  man.     I  hope  the 
wild  beasts  will  not  destroy  him.     The  man  who  took  us  in  last 
night  had  but  one  daughter,  and  she  is  a  —  wife  !     Good-by  ! 
Yours  faithfully  (if  I  get  out  of  the  woods), 

THEO.  PARKER. 

BOSTON,  Feb.  3,  1857. 

DEAR  FRIENDS,  —  This  is  to  say  that  I,  the  undersigned, 
have  removed  from  the  house  in  Exeter  Place,  and  live  miscel 
laneously, —  perambulating,  or  rather  pervehiculating,  through 
space  in  all  manner  of  directions.  That  wicked  wag  Aristopha 
nes  personified  the  Athenians  as  Demos,  who  gave  his  resi 
dence  as  Pnyx,  the  place  of  public  meetings,  —  equivalent  to 
people  of  town-meeting :  so  I  might  sign  myself  as  Theodore 
Parker  of  everywhere,  and  no  place  in  particular. 

I  live  in  taverns,  move  in  railroad-cars,  and  have  my  being  in 
the  Music  Hall  and  other  places  of  public  speaking.  I  am  not 
a  skylark,  but  a  "  wandering  voice  :  "  so  I  get  no  time  to  write 
you  all  (or  singular)  the  letters  I  wish.  Forgive  me  now,  have 
patience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay  ye  all ;  that  is,  so  far  as  possi 
bility  goes. 

Poor  little  Potamous  !  such  a  shining  blade,  that  he  seems 
like  to  eat  up  the  scabbard.  What  a  pity  the  brightness  could 
not  have  been  more  uniformly  distributed  over  the  surface  of 

the  whole  family  !     I  wish  he  could  exchange  places  with . 

He  needs  the  stimulus  which  dear  Potamous  gets  too  much  of, 
I  fear ;  and  Potamousie  needs  the  wet  blanket  of  dulness 
which  hangs  round  little  . 

Dear  me  !  if  I  had  been  born  with  such  surroundings,  really 
I  might  have  come  to  something.  I  should  have  made  a  spoon, 
or  spoiled  (pronounced  spilt)  a  horn.  T.  P. 

26 


302  THEODORE  PARKER. 


BOSTON,  April  19,  1856. 

.  .  .  The  sanguinarias  are  out  at  Melrose,  the  hepaticas  at 
West  Roxbury,  the  Mayflowers  where  they  condescend  to  grow ; 
columbines  are  suspected  at  Concord ;  saxifrages  are  in  their 
(little)  full  glory.  You  at  Rome  have  cherries  of  quotable 
bigness  ;  and  grape-vines  have  grown  a  foot  or  more.  Did  not 
I  leave  dear,  dear  old  sunny  Italy  on  the  i6th  of  April,  1844, 
and  turn  my  face  towards  the  Alps  ?  Shall  I  ever  do  the  like 
again  ? 

I  hope  you  got  my  sermon ;  and  of  course  you  read  it  to 
the  Pope.  I  hardly  dare  ask  what  he  thought  of  it.  I  fear  he 
might  not  think  all  parts  of  it  quite  (Roman)  orthodox. 

Poor  Pope  !  How  are  the  hens  f  I  hope  he  had  eggs  enough 
for  Lent,  and  that  there  will  be  chickens  in  the  summer.  I 
send  you  another  sermon,  which  I  fear  you  had  better  not  read 
to  Pope,  nor  even  to  Mrs.  Pope.  I  speak  of  his  Holiness  as  a 
mummy.  The  shabby  old  fellow,  not  to  send  me  a  cardinal's 
hat  and  robes  !  Why,  how  can  I  go  to  the  meeting  of  the  Pro 
gressive  Friends  at  Pennsylvania  with  nothing  but  my  stove 
pipe  on  my  head,  and  my  cut-away  on  my  back  ?  If  I  had  the 
cardinal's  great  red  hat  and  the  purple  robes,  how  I  would  sit 
on  the  antislavery  platform  at  New  York  and  at  Boston  in 
anniversary-week  !  How  the  Quakers  would  fall  down  and 
worship  the  image  of  the  beast,  and  the  great  scarlet  what-is- 
it  in  the  Revelation.  Dear  me  !  I  never  saw  a  cardinal  with 
out  thinking  of  the  whole  book  of  Revelation  and  the  city  of 
Babylon. 

Poor  Sumner  is  worse  again.  Dear,  noble  soul !  If  his  pain 
could  be  divided  amongst  us,  how  soon  he  would  be  on  his 
legs  !  But  it  is  only  pecuniary  sufferings  we  can  thus  alleviate. 
Poverty  is  divisible  by  dollars,  not  sickness  by  numbers,  not 
sadness.  Good-by  !  Here's  a  Mayflower  for  S.  T. 

NEWTON  CORNER,  July  12,  1858. 

...  A  little  word  before  I  go  to  bed.  Bear  is  just  snuggling 
herself  in.  It  has  become  a  very  naughty  Bear,  and  can't  say 
its  catechism  till  the  Hunts  come  home.  It  is  getting  wild  again, 
and  heathenish.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  the  creature. 

Hannah  writes  to  the  sixty-seven-years-old  mother,  and  will 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  303 

tell  of  the  sacrament  of  the  preserved  peaches  and  sponge-cake  ; 
and  she  will  tell,  likewise,  all  the  news  :  this  is  her  province.  She 
is  a  woman.  But  I  must  tell  Frederick  May  is  engaged  to  Miss 
Morse  of  Dorchester.  Just  the  right  thing  !  "  Marriage  made  in 
heaven."  It  was  a  good  while  coming  down,  though  :  that  is 
what  all  the  people  say.  Fred  and  Martha  came  over  and  told 
me  of  it.  She  sat  in  the  chaise.  How  happy  she  did  look  ! 
Dear  me  !  I  love  to  see  these  lovers.  I  walk  in  the  public 
garden  at  the  proper  time  of  day,  and  delight  to  look  at  these 
birds  of  paradise  flying  after  their  garden  of  Eden.  They  are 
in  heaven  for  a  time.  How  the  most  precious  joys  are  also  the 
commonest !  It  is  dear,  loving  God  who  fills  the  earthly  cup 
with  such  sweet  blessings,  and  pours  out  so  liberally.  T.  P. 

SEPT.  6, 1858. 

It  is  the  last  Sunday  that  we  shall  spend  at this  sea 
son  :  so  I  shall  write  a  word  of  a  letter  to  our  dear  Sarah  ;  and, 
as  I  write  out  of  doors  on  one  of  the  most  beautiful  days  in  the 
year,  I  think  she  will  excuse  the  writing  with  a  pencil,  and  not 
with  a  pen.  We  intend  to  go  to  Boston  next  Wednesday  morning 
with  all  our  worldly  goods.  It  will  be  pleasant  to  touch  the 
crockery  once  more :  we  have  done  no  such  thing  for  a  long 
time  here :  a  thick  film  of  Paddy  is  spread  over  every  thing. 
I  shall  also  be  glad  to  escape  from  the  everlasting  baby,  whose 
life  is  one  continual  yell,  or  squeal,  or  scream,  or  screech,  or  by 
whatever  name  the  most  disagreeable  of  (human}  sounds, 
except  the  voice  of  an  ill-natured  woman,  may  be  called.  We 
have  had  a  delightful  summer,  —  fine  weather,  good  health,  and 
all ;  but  I  am  tired  of  the  leisure,  and  long  to  preach  again. 

Your  beautiful  book  came  only  a  week  after  my  birthday 
itself.  Had  it  come  a  week  earlier,  I  could  not  have  received  it 
sooner;  for  I  was  absent  from  Massachusetts.  It  is  a  quite 
charming  little  book ;  the  only  piece  of  popular  song  I  have  in 
Italian.  All  the  songs  are  of  love  and  its  accompaniments,  — 
youth,  beauty,  tenderness,  &c. ;  but  they  are  singularly  delicate 
and  refined.  Yet  it  is  said  all  come  from  the  mouth  of  the 
people.  If  so,  it  is  a  remarkable  monument  of  the  national 
character.  It  has  none  of  the  wonderful  richness  of  fancy  and 
dear  human  love  of  common  things  which  appear  continually 
in  the  English  ballads  of  the  people  and  in  the  Volkslieder  of 


304  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the  Germans.  Idealization  of  the  common  and  homely  is  the 
characteristic  of  the  aesthetics  of  the  Teutonic  mind,  including 
all  the  people  of  that  great  ethnological  family.  It  appears  in 
the  Dutch  pictures ;  in  Rubens,  who  yet  had  a  culture  quite 
alien  to  his  nature ;  and  in  the  noblest  of  them  all,  Albrecht 
Diirer.  It  comes  out,  too,  in  their  poetry  ;  most  perhaps,  of  all, 
in  Shakspeare ;  but  how  clear  in  Burns  !  even  in  (stately  and 
Latinized)  Milton.  Of  course,  this  appears  in  the  literature  of 
the  people.  One  day,  the  Americans,  also,  will  have  a  national 
consciousness,  and  a  literature  to  express  it ;  when  the  same 
thing  will  appear.  Now  we  have  none  of  it  in  artistic  forms, 
except  our  landscapes,  which  are  real  bits  of  American  na 
ture.  .  .  . 

Hereupon  came  the  bell  for  supper :  so  the  rest  of  this  scrawl 
must  be  written  within  doors,  and  that,  too,  in  Boston  itself. 
Here  I  have  no  interruption,  —  only  the  hand-organs,  and  the 
omnibuses,  and  the  ringing  at  the  door.  It  is  something  to  be 
rid  of  that  baby,  crying,  roaring,  bawling,  teasing,  screaming, 
screeching,  yelling,  yowling,  yelping,  barking,  growling,  snarling, 
snapping,  squealing,  squeaking,  mowing  !  "  He  is  a  nice  baby, 
mamma's  little  darling,  so  he  is,  isn't  he  ?  "  But  he  is  also  a 
nuisance.  At  breakfast,  at  dinner,  at  supper,  and  between  all 
the  meals,  came  the  universal  baby,  —  baby  in  all  forms,  often 
au  naturel,  which  is  the  prettiest  kind  of  dressing.  But  Bear 
and  Hannah  have  a  most  feminine  delight  in  all  the  perform 
ances  of  the  aforesaid  baby :  indeed,  I  shrewdly  suspect  they 
are  the  (proximate)  cause  of  much  of  the  nuisance  he  commits. 

Here  must  I  make  an  end  of  my  letter,  which  it  took  two 
days  to  write,  and  which  was  begun  in  Middlesex,  and  ended  in 
Suffolk.  T. 

JUNE  16,  1857. 

It  is  Boston  now,  twelve,  noon ;  nay,  almost  one,  afternoon. 
Wind  north-east ;  sky  covered  with  lead-colored  clouds ;  a  storm 
and  a  holiday  coming  for  to-morrow.  There  is  to  be  a  celebra 
tion  of  the  battle.  A  statue  of  Gen.  Warren  is  to  be  inaugu 
rated.  Gov.  Gardner  is  to  have  a  finger  in  the  pie.  Mr. 
Everett  and  Mr.  Winthrop,  I  think,  are  to  do  some  small  chores 
in  the  way  of  speaking  at  a  dinner  or  elsewhere.  And  we  are 
to  have  any  quantity  of  soldiers,  (Heaven  save  the  mark  !)  fire- 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  305 

men,  &c.  Gen.  Scott  was  expected.  He  was  to  walk  in  the 
procession,  —  no,  to  ride  on  an  animal  as  big  as  the  pale  horse 
in  West's  picture  of  the  Last  Judgment,  with  similar  following, 
I  suppose.  But  his  wife  is  sick  in  Europe  ;  and  so  he  can't 
come  to  Massachusetts.  But  in  his  place  the  "  SIRTI  "  is  to 
walk,  preceded  by  (the  skeleton  of)  old  Dr.  Warren  riding  on 
his  mastodon.  I  only  know  this  :  "  no  other  paper  has  the 

news."     But  the  penny  journals  say  "  Gen. will  not  be  in 

Charlestown  on  the  iyth  ;  "  but  Sand's  circus  will  be  there,  and 
the  elephants,  &c.  So  the  bears  have  gone  over  to  Charlestown 
to  celebrate  the  great  battle.  Last  year,  you  remember,  Mr. 
was  to  deliver  his  eulogy  on  Washington  at  Cambridge- 
port  on  the  1 2th  of  June,  but  got  frightened,  and  did  not  dare 
let  fly.  So,  to  make  it  all  right  with  the  public,  he  requested 

Dr.  to  give  him  a  certificate  of  ill   health,  stating  that 

his  vocal  organs  were  in  such  a  condition  that  he  ought  not  to 

speak.     Now,  the  i8th,  Mr. is  to  deliver  the  long-expected 

speech,  and  satisfy  Mr.  Public,  who  has  been  waiting  these 
twelve  months.  I  understand  that  the  president  of  the  "  Sirti " 
is  to  introduce  after  this  sort :  "  Gentlemen,  a  year  ago  Mr. 

could  not  address  you  (state  of  vokl  orgns) ;  but  now,  by  the 

aid  of  science,  and  the  happy  disposition  of  his  nature  and  his 
will,  he  has  become  vox  et  pr&terea  nihil." 

The  "  Sirti,"  it  should  be  remarked,  by  the  way,  was 
the  name  given  to  an  imaginary  society  existing  in  Mr. 
Parker's  brain,  consisting  of  his  wild  fancies  and  bad 
puns.  It  figures  conspicuously  in  his  familiar  letters. 
The  letter  from  which  the  following  extract  is  taken  was 
written  in  the  summer  of  1858,  when  he  was  struggling 
with  disease :  — 

"  I,  too,  have  been  a  traveller.  Shall  I  give  you  my  <  impres 
sions  '  ?  At  three  in  the  afternoon,  left  Boston  by  the  railroad  for 
New  York;  distance  two  hundred  and  forty  miles.  Stop  at 
Framingham,  twenty-six  miles  off.  Some  of  the  people  reading 
newspapers,  which  seems  the  chief  literature  of  the  people.  Boys 
bring  round  popped  corn  and  peanuts :  these  seem  the  chief  deli 
cacies  of  the  country.  Several  persons  ate  the  latter  voracious- 
26* 


306  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ly.  (N.B.  —  The  boys  seem  all  to  be  of  the  same  family,  as 
they  all  answered  to  the  name  of  *  Bub.'  I  had  a  copy  of  '  The 
Boston  Directory,'  but  found  no  such  name  in  that  collection  of 
surnames.)  At  Worcester,  forty-four  miles  from  Boston,  found 
a  town  of  about  thirty  thousand  inhabitants.  It  has  a  court 
house,  jail,  meeting-houses,  and  one  enormous  hospital  for  the 
insane.  It  contains  a  hundred  and  thirty-five  inmates,  —  a  large 
proportion  for  so  small  a  town.  Several  of  the  Bub  family 
visited  us  again ;  some  with  apples  and  oranges  as  well  as  the 
peanuts  ;  others  had  candy,  and  popped  corn  gummed  into 
balls  with  molasses.  A  few  bought  lozenges.  (I  think  the  sale 
of  such  articles  is  confined  to  the  members  of  this  family,  —  the 
Bubs.  It  must  be  a  quite  profitable  business  ;  for  an  intelligent 
gentleman  told  me  one  of  them  would  probably  be  in  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States  before  long,  and  the  other  would 
stand  a  good  chance  to  be  governor  of  Massachusetts.)  The 
chief  business  of  the  taverns  seems  to  be  providing  for  travellers. 
Many  persons  crowded  about  us  with  the  cry,  *  Have  a  caidj?^ 
(that  is  the  American  name  for  a  coach  drawn  by  two  horses.) 
The  word  'caidj,'  or  'kaidj,'  —  for  I  have  not  seen  it  spelt, — 
is  probably  derived  from  the  Indians,  who,  I  suppose,  had  the 
same  kind  of  vehicle.  (Mem.  —  Look  in  the  dictionaries  in  the 
Astor  Library,  and  see  what  tribe  of  Indians.)  Others  called  out 
with  great  violence, '  Temprenceous ! '  which  seems  to  be  another 
name  for  the  same  thing.  But  it  has  not  found  its  way  into  the 
dictionaries,  more  than  the  *  Bubs  '  into  the  directory. 

"Apple-trees  are  getting  into  blossoms.  The  buttercups 
have  yellow  flowers.  There  is  red  clover  in  the  fields,  mixed  with 
•white;  but  the  red  is  the  tallest :  I  suppose  it  is  the  native. 
Mr.  Agassiz  says  red  is  the  typical  color  of  the  continent : 
thence  red  men,  red  roses,  red  bricks,  red  combs  on  the  cocks 
and  turkeys  (the  latter  an  American  bird}.  The  cows  are  red; 
so  are  the  horses ;  nay,  many  of  the  farm-houses.  I  am  told 
that  the  cherries  are  also  red,  the  beets  also,  many  of  the  apples, 
and  all  the  native  strawberries,  cranberries,  raspberries,  and 
barberries.  One  gentleman  told  me  there  are  red  lilies,  and 
that  all  the  green  blackberries  are  red  before  they  are  ripe. 

"  The  State  of  Connecticut  has  but  one  county,  —  Barnum 
County  :  it  extends  over  all  the  State,  and  indicates  the  morals 
of  the  people.  Mr.  Barnum  is  the  typical  American  :  he  is 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  307 

the  bright  consummate  flower  of  the  nation.  Men  say  Mr. 
Buchanan  is  but  another  Barnum.  I  proposed  to  a  gentle 
man  with  a  clerical  look,  if  it  would  not  be  well  to  consolidate 
the  prayers  of  all  the  churches  on  Mr.  Barnum ;  after  he  was 
converted,  get  him  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher  to  engineer  the 
revival  through  the  United  States.  He  thought,  with  their  help, 
the  Tract  Society  might  be  'saved,'  and  Mr.  Buchanan  re- 
elected  in  1860. 

"  Reach  New  York  quarter  before  twelve.  City  lit  by  gas. 
Streets  are  muddy  when  it  rains.  (Coachmen  cry  the  same  name 
for  their  vehicle  as  in  Worcester  ;  viz.,  kaidj.)  Stopped  at  the 
Astor  House.  Enormous  spittoons  in  the  rooms.  Men  sitting 
with  their  feet  in  chairs.  (Query.  —  Is  it  to  avoid  dirtying  their 
boots  ?  or  is  it  a  custom  derived  from  the  Indians  ?)  There  are 
several  churches  in  New  York.  I  heard  the  bells  strike  twelve  ; 
and  at  one  went  to  bed  in  the  uppermost  story,  with  the  city-hall 
clock  staring  me  in  the  face. 

"  Here  ends  the  traveller's  journal." 

GALESBURG,  ILL.,  Oct.  21,  1856. 

IT  is  a  good  old  ladye  ;  only  it  is  a  good  ways  off,  —  twelve 
hundred  miles  by  the  shortest  cut.  To-morrow  night  (at  Jack 
sonville)  it  will  be  thirteen  or  fourteen  hundred.  Don't  like 
it  to  be  so  far  away.  What  a  country  it  is  out  here  !  Between 
this  place  and  Chicago  there  is  not  a  hill  fifteen  feet  high,  no 
undulations,  only  little  ripples  of  land  in  this  great  sea  of 
earth.  There  are  few  trees.  You  go  many  miles,  and  find 
none.  The  ground,  where  it  is  ploughed,  is  black  as  coal-dust, 
and  fertile  as  Egypt.  The  natural  wealth  of  Illinois  exceeds 
belief.  The  rapid  growth  of  population,  too,  seems  fabulous, 
a  miracle.  Thus,  seven  years  ago,  Galesburg  had  six  hundred 
inhabitants ;  now  about  seven  thousand.  One  Judge  Hale  of 
Kenosha  told  me,  on  the  3d  of  July,  1835,  he  was  following  an 
Indian  path  through  the  Wisconsin  Territory,  and  at  night  slept 
with  only  the  sky  above  and  the  ground  under  him.  There  was 
not  a  house  within  many  miles :  only  one  woodsman  was  just 
beginning  his  log-cabin,  chopping  the  trees  for  it.  Last  July  3 
he  went  to  the  same  spot  (by  railroad),  and  there  was  the  city 
of  Janesville,  with  nine  thousand  inhabitants  ;  and  he  slept  in  a 
hotel  not  ten  rods  from  the  old  spot  where  he  encamped  in  1835  ! 


308  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Quantity  is  immense  out  here.  Bulk  is  the  word  to  describe 
with :  quality  will  come  later.  Quantity  is  the  great  burly 
brother ;  quality  the  nice,  dainty  little  sister ;  but  both  of  the 
same  father  and  mother.  Babies!  —  why,  they  are  universal: 
babies  in  all  the  moods  and  tenses,  —  babies  indicative,  subjunc 
tive,  potential,  imperative,  and  also  infinitive  ;  babies  present, 
imperfect,  perfect,  pluperfect,  and  in  the  first  (or  obvious)  and 
second  (or  potential)  future  ;  babies  in  the  taverns,  in  the  lec 
ture-rooms,  in  the  meeting-houses  ;  in  the  cars,  babies.  Here 
they  are  stationary ;  there  locomotive.  I  no  more  expect  to 
see  a  woman  without  a  baby  than  a  man  without  tobacco. 
They  are  not  only  an  "  institution,"  but  also  a  nuisance. 

Preached  at  Waukegan  Sunday  forenoon,  in  a  public  hall,  to 
about  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  people.  Our  hymn-book  in 
the  desk.  I  sent  them  the  hymn-books  years  ago.  We  had 
live  singing  too. 

It  is  a  dark  day  for  America  ;  but  she  has  seen  dark  years 
before.  Tories  are  nothing  new.  Reading  Washington's  Life 
again.  I  wonder  that  we  ever  got  through  the  Revolution,  so 
heedless  are  individuals  of  the  welfare  of  the  whole,  so  many 
are  only  particular,  so  few  universal  or  national.  There  is 
something  radically  wrong  in  our  civilization,  which  leads  men 
to  neglect  their  country.  The  pulpit  is  partly  to  blame ;  for 
while  it  is  pounding  away  all  the  time  on  matters  of  individual, 
private  concernment,  —  patience,  prudence,  prayer,  benevo 
lence,  &c.,  in  its  best  endeavors,  —  it  seldom  touches  the  great 
political  duties  which  men  owe  to  man  as  divine  service  of  God. 
But  politics  is  the  religion  of  a  nation,  just  as  individual  daily 
life  is  that  of  Peter  and  Rebecca.  But  how  few  ministers  do 
(or  can)  look  beyond  mere  individuals — in  the  "church  on 
church  green "  and  its  Sunday  school !  But  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  scold  men,  only  to  mend  'em. 

Love  to  all.  It  must  be  the  best  old  ladye  that  ever  was  in 
all  the  world. 

Good-by !  T.  P. 

TELEGRAPH  FROM  O.  F. — "  Meetin  'v  Sirti  'n  Sexn  'v  The- 
olurgi.  Questyun :  Why  did  the  Lord  make  the  world? 
Answer:  Nobodi  els  cood.  Wa'n't  none  reddi  mad:  so  he 
done  it." 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  309 


BOSTON,  Nov.  7,  1852. 

POOR  DEAR  OLD  LADYE,  —  I  had  a  nice  time  at  Loring's 
Monday  night.  Saw  Thackeray,  —  a  great,  monstrous  man,  six 
feet  and  a  half  high,  with  a  huge  shock  of  gray  hair  on  his 
head,  spectacles,  a  large  stwnpf  nase,  and  a  long  old  chin. 
He  seemed  a  little  shy.  Sumner  was  there,  and  looked  short 

beside  Thackeray.     It  was  a  caution  to  hear  "let  on" 

the  great  men.  It  would  have  amused  Wendell.  Mr.  Crowe, 
son  of  the  "  Nightside  of  Nature,"  I  take  it,  was  there.  He 
is  a  secretary  of  Mr.  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh,  and  accompa 
nies  him  from  Cornhill  to  Cairo. 

Emerson  was  here  yesterday,  full  of  the  sweetest  bon 
homie.  Came  to  ask  me  to  dine  with  him  and  Clough  —  the 
"  Bothie  of  Toper  na  Fuosich,"  you  know  —  and  others  at 
the  Tremont  House  on  Saturday.  Emerson's  house  is  in  dis 
order,  and  he  can't  give  us  treat  at  Concord,  and  would  not 
let  me  give  it  in  our  house  at  Boston.  So  it  is. 

Well,  I  am  all  sound  and  round  and  light  and  bright ;  sleep 
like  a  pic;  and  have  the  appetite  of  a  wild  roe  on  the  mountains  : 
so  I  shall  soon  make  amends.  I  have  answered  all  the  letters  ; 
and  "owe  no  man  any  thing,"  according  to  the  Scriptures.  I 
have  even  subscribed  for  "  The  Daily  Advertiser ;  "  and  think 
in  time,  say  a  thousand  years,  I  may  be  an  —  old  man. 

Love  to  all,  especially  one  ;  to  whom  also, 

Boo! 

The  pure  nonsense  often  comes  at  the  end  of  a  grave 
letter,  as  if  to  relieve  the  sadness  of  his  thought;  for 
example :  — 

WEST  NEWTON,  June  17,  1852. 

DEAR  OLD  LADYE,  —  Seventy-seven  years  ago  this  day,  my 
worthy  grandfather  felt  a  little  different  from  what  I  feel  just 
now.  It  was  a  hot  day  then  ;  but  they  made  it  hotter.  I  think 
it  will  be  hot  at  Baltimore  to-day.  All  Boston  believes  that 
Webster  will  be  president.  Seven  hundred  of  the  Hunkers 
have  gone  to  Baltimore  as  outside  members  of  the  convention. 
Things  look  very  ill  for  the  country.  If  Pierce  is  chosen,  or 
Webster,  I  think  we  shall  have  Cuba  and  half  Mexico  in  the 


3io 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


next  administration.  How  long  this  re-action  in  favor  of 
despotism  is  to  last,  I  do  not  know;  but  it  extends  every 
where.  We  shall  have  slavery  in  California  yet.  But  one  good 
thing  gets  established,  though  a  dangerous  good,  —  the  South 
has  got  the  Federal  Government  to  assume  the  control  of  slave 
ry.  One  day,  they  will  be  very  sorry  for  this. 

The  whole  house  is  in  delicious  confusion.  We  were  at 
Uncle  Peter's  on  Monday.  The  great  oxen  are  gone  into  the 
country  to  board ;  but  the  Pics  are  at  home,  and  receive  com 
pany.  I  saw  O.  F.  the  other  day  with  his  white  hat  on. 
He  read  a  paper  before  the  "'Cademy,"  mathematical  section, 
on  the  trisection  of  the  arc.  Who  first  did  it  ?  That  was  the 
question.  O.  F.  examined  the  claims  of  Archimedes,  Zeno, 
&c.  No,  'twarn't  they.  Who  was  it  ?  Noah  trisected  the 
ark  for  Shem,  Ham,  and  Japhet.  Never  was  such  a  family. 
O.  F.  recommended  that  Noah  be  made  honorary  member  of 
the  Academy.  Boo ! 

BOSTON,  May  18,  1858. 

IT  is  AN  OLD  LADYE,  —  We  went  to  Lexington  yesterday, 
P.M.  Emily  is  to  pass  away,  and  that  before  long.  In  cold 
weather  she  feels  pretty  well ;  but  in  a  warm  day  she  wilts  like 
a  cut  flower.  I  doubt  that  she  sees  midsummer.  All  the  rest 
are  well.  The  rheumatism  alone  ought  to  have  been  enough  to 
stop  me  from  going  to  New  York  ;  but  I  fear  it  would  not.  I  did 
not  like  to  leave  the  Ellises  in  that  time  of  trial.  Either  was 
reason  enough  for  not  going  ;  but  I  made  public  the  most 
quotable. 

I  am  afraid  you  will  lose  interest  in  Boston,  unless  you 
know  the  important  events  of  this  great  town :  so  I  advise 
you  thereof. 

The  Daily  has  a  paper,  which  was  read  at  the  Sirti  last 
night,  by  Col.  S.,  on  "  Stravgnz  V  ^Pinyun."  Here  it  is. 

Boo! 

Nobody  misses  it.  Ata"meetin'  of  the  Sirti"  last  night, 
the  question  came  up  on  the  antiquity  of  omnibuses.  The 
usual  variety  of  (wise)  opinions  was  entertained.  But  O.  F. 
decided  that  they  were  as  old  as  the  time  of  St.  Ambrose,  — 
fourth  century.  He  quoted  the  well-known  rule  of  that  saint, 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  311 

not  with  entire  accuracy ;  for  his  imagination  sometimes 
supplies  his  memory  with  facts,  —  In  triviis  unitasj  i.e.,  "unity 
in  things  of  no  consequence;  "  for  that  is  what  he  thinks  is 
meant  by  triviis, — not,  as  the  dictionaries  say,  the  public 
squares  where  three  ways  meet :  in  cubiculis  libertas  ;  i.e.,  "  you 
may  do  what  you  have  a  mind  to  :  "  and  in  omnibus  caritas  ; 
i.e.,  " good  manners  in  an  omnibus" 

BOSTON,  Saturday  Morning. 

DEAR  OLD  LADYE,  —  We  got  into  town  last  night,  driven 
in  by  Mrs.  A.,  who  comes  up  from  the  sea-shore  in  such 
weather  as  this.  Last  night  I  could  not  coax  the  thermometer 
down  below  79°,  any  way  we  could  fix  it.  Now,  at  eight  and 
a  half,  A.M.,  I  dare  not  look  at  it,  it  is  so  high.  Susan  is  here, 
quite  well.  In  the  midst  of  the  heat,  there  just  came  a  mon 
strous  African.  Black  ! —  oh,  dear,  how  black  he  was  !  Fat !  — 
bless  me,  he  looked  like  a  barrel  (no,  a  sugar-hogshead}  of  tar, 
so  black,  so  fat !  What  an  aggravation,  with  the  thermometer 
at  90°  in  the  shade  ! 

We  have  now  A.  He  has  been  studying  German  ;  and,  as 
usual,  his  originality  develops  itself  into  new  forms  :  indeed, 
originality  with  him  becomes  imitation  (of  himself,  namely). 
He  has  discovered  a  misprint  in  Schiller's  Frauen.  Now  it 
reads,  — 

"Ehret  die  Frauen,  sie  flechten  und  weben 
Himmlische  Rosen  in  irdische  Leben." 

He  says,  "  misprint."     Read  so,  — • 

"Ehet  die  Frauen,  sie  flechten  und  weben 
Cottonische  Faden  in  ihre  schon  Leben." 

That  makes  sense. 

At  the  last  meeting  of  the  "  'Cademy  "  he  announced  these 
new  things  :  "  Why  do  men  eat  meat  and  bread  ?  "  —  "  Cos 
they're  hungry." 

"  Why  do  they  eat  fruit  ?  "  —  "  Cos  they  like  it." 

There  never  woz  sich  a  fomily  az  our  fomily  ! 

I  send  a  letter  of  Desor's.  The  frontispiece  represents  a 
fact.  Bradford  was  going  to  disturb  a  pig,  a  monster,  lying 
in  the  road.  I  remonstrated  against  stirring  him  up,  and  said, 


512  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  Pig,  pig,  lie  still,  and  slumber ; "  but  pig  got  up,  and  followed 
us  for  ten  rods,  accompanied  by  a  whole  troop  of  blessed  dar 
lings,  that  cried  for  their  breakfast.  So  naughty  Desor  has 
taken  me  off  in  a  scrap.  Boo  ! 

Catz  came  in  safe.  His  arrival  was  announced  in  "The 
Caterwaul  and  Transcript : "  and  so,  last  night,  George  Tick- 
nor's  cat,  Sam.  A.  Eliot's  cat,  and  George  T.  Curtis's  great 
tom-cat,  all  came  down  to  welcome  him  back ;  and  they  scolded 
and  quarrelled  and  spit  and  fought  to  their  hearts'  content. 
Good-by ! 

WEST  NEWTON,  July  19,  1852. 

POOR  OLD  LADYE  FORTY-FIVE,  —  So  she  has  got  a  com 
fortable  chamber  for  a  particular  person  never  so  particular. 
Well,  at  the  time  appointed,  —  a  long  time  away  it  is  too,  —  I 
shall  report  myself.  We  shall  have  room  for  you  here  for  a 
little  while  at  the  beginning  of  September ;  and,  after  the  mid 
dle,  as  much  more  as  you  want.  I  should  like  most  dearly  to 
take  some  of  the  walks  with  you,  and  some  of  the  drives  :  the 
waltzing,  polkaing,  &c.,  I  am  content  to  leave  to  you  and  the 
four-wived  deacon. 

Boarding  has  its  comforts  for  a  few  days,  but  its  disadvan 
tages  for  many  days.  I  think  most  of  the  men  of  great  intel 
lectual  renown  have  associated  chiefly  with  men  of  large 
intellect  and  of  fine  culture  :  so  it  was  with  Socrates,  Aristotle, 
Bacon,  Leibnitz,  Newton,  and  the  rest  of  such  men.  But  what 
is  so  good  for  the  head,  I  take  it,  is  rather  hard  for  the  heart. 
Men  who  have  attained  a  large  growth  in  affection,  in  justice,  in 
religion,  I  think  have  associated  with  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men.  I  believe  one  must  do  so  to  get  this  human  sort  of 
culture.  A  baby  is  better  for  the  heart  than  a  whole  academy 
of  philosophers.  Martin  Luther  lived  with  his  Hebe  Kdthie, 
and  with  all  the  plain,  homely  people  about  his  little  town :  so 
must  all  teachers  of  religion,  and  all  learners  thereof,  I  fancy.  It 
is  a  deal  better  to  get  a  whole  culture  than  a  half  culture.  What 
business  would  Newton,  Locke,  Leibnitz,  or  Kant,  have  with  a 
baby,  or  even  a  wife,  or  even  a  woman  ?  Thomas  Aquinas,  Sco- 
tus,  and  that  sort  of  folks,  have  a  right  to  a  family  of  books  ;  nc 
more  :  their  "folks  at  home  "  are  only  folios. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  313 

Out  here  I  have  got  comfort  with  the  cattle  ;  and  the  old  horse 
knows  me,  and  calls  for  hay ;  and  I  talk  with  the  dumb  beast, 

who  is  not  deaf.  He  is  an  excellent  creature  :  and  Mrs.  L 

says,  "  E'en  his  failings  lean  to  virtue's  side  ;  "  for  he  wants  to  go 
too  fast.  The  great  long-horned  oxen  are  pets  of  mine.  The 
pic  is  one  of  my  favorites  also  ;  and  I  speak  to  him  every  morn 
ing,  noon,  and  night,  and  he  answers  me.  Then  I  throw  him 
nice  dainty  pigweed  and  plantains,  which  he  receives  with  a 
patient  shrug  ;  for  eating  is  "  the  badge  of  all  his  tribe." 

Here  is  a  nice  little  boy,  —  Bubby  White.  I  like  him  and  little 
Bits  o'  Blossoms ;  but  he  does  not  begin  to  compare  to  Mou- 
sie  or  famous  Mites  o'  Teants.  "  To-morrow  to  Clark's  Island 
and  pastures  new  :  "  so  good-night ;  and  night  it  is  too. 

We  have  a  young  woman  here  (she  is  io-j-io-f-5=25)  who  is 
on  the  way  to  the  society  of  O.  M's.  She  is  booked  for  an  O.  M. 
I  would  not  mention  her  name  for  the  world :  she  would  take 
my  head  off,  and  I  should  be  even  worse  treated.  So  don't  men 
tion  the  unpardonable  sin  to  any  one.  Boo  ! 

Here  is  a  piece  of  pure  nonsense  addressed  to  a  lady  of 
fifty,  in  capital  letters,  as  if  for  the  eyes  of  a  child :  — 

APRIL  FOURTH,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  HAN.,  —  I  am  now  at  Ports-mouth.  It  is  a  small 
town  close  to  the  sea.  Howe  and  I  are  at  a  small  house  where 
they  take  folks  in  to  lodge  if  they  are  good.  The  moon  shines 
here  just  as  it  shines  at  home.  If  you  ask  the  Bear,  she  will 
tell  you  that  she  thinks  it  does  so  in  all  the  world,  but  is  not 
quite  sure  of  it.  We  went  from  Fall  River  on  foot  to  Tiverton : 
it  was  six  miles.  The  land  is  full  of  hills  and  vales,  with  some 
brooks.  I  have  seen  some  flocks  of  birds :  some  were  black, 
and  some  were  blue.  I  heard  one  of  the  black  ones  say,  — 

"  If  our  dear  Han. 
Will  do  all  she  can; 
If  she  will  not  be  rude, 
But  will  tr)'  to  be  good,  — 
Some  day  in  the  spring 
She  shall  hear  the  birds  sing. 
Good  lit-tle  Han. : 
She  does  all  she  can." 
27 


314  THEODORE  PARKER. 

.  Well,  to-day  we  mean  to  go  from  Ports-mouth  to  New-port. 
I  hope  you  will  get  this  note  next  day,  if  you  will  be  a  good  girl. 
Howe  walks  on  both  of  his  feet.  He  has  got  a  new  cane  ;  and  I 
thought  I  could  not  keep  up  with  him  if  I  went  on  two  legs 
while  he  had  three :  so  I  got  me  a  new  cane  ;  and  I  can  walk  as 
fast  as  he.  I  went  down  to  the  coal-mine  last  night ;  but  I  could 
not  get  in.  You  see,  they  fear  that  men  will  come  and  spy  out 
the  coal ;  and  so  they  keep  dark  about  it.  Here  is  a  steamboat 
in  the  bay,  and  a  nice  gall  in  the  house.  We  get  on  quite  well. 
We  have  seen  a  bridge,  and  some  men  with  a  great  long  net  to 
catch  fish.  You  must  be  good,  my  dear  Han.,  and  do  all  that 
the  poor  old  Bear  tells  you.  Give  my  love  to  her;  and  here  is 
a  kiss  for  Han. 

But  usually  a  strain  of  pathos  runs  through  it :  — 

JUNE  21,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  HANNAH,  —  You  don't  know  how  sad  all  things 
are  here  without  you.  Nothing  goes  well  without  you.  The 
birds  have  forgot  half  their  singing  ;  and  Lizzy  chatters  more 
than  ever.  Do  you  know  how  hot  it  is  here  ?  Mr.  Shaw's 
thermometer  rose  so  high,  that  it  went  off  out  of  sight.  I 
suppose  you  have  a  buffalo  to  keep  you  warm,  and  wonder 
how  the  poor  folks  at  West  Roxbury  do  who  have  no 
buffalo. 

What  an  unlucky  station  that  is  at  Monterey  !  I  walked 
over  there  to-day  at  half -past  two,  P.M.  There  I  was  hot  as  a 
grasshopper  or  a  kettle  of  tar.  The  "spectacles"  were  fixed, 
"  eyes  right ;  "  and  I  stood  there  panting  like  a  locomotive, 
only  redder  in  the  face,  and  by  went  the  cars  :  so  I  took  it 
coolly, — for  it  was  a  cool  thing,  —  and  walked  home.  No 
Boston  this  day ;  no  Cambridge  yesterday ;  Cambridge  the 
day  before. 

You  don't  know  it ;  but  to-day  is  the  twelfth  anniversary  of 
my  settlement.  Chandler  Robbins  read  the  Scriptures :  this 
day  his  new  church  is  sold  on  account  of  whom  it  may  concern. 
Ripley  gave  me  the  right  hand  :  now  he  is  the  New- York  cor 
respondent  of  "  The  Chronotype."  Whitney,  Dr.  Gray  (illus 
trious  name,  clarum  et  venerabile  nomeri),  have  both  gone. 
Henry  Ware  also  is  gone  —  to  heaven.  Not  one  that  took  a 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  315 

part  in  the  services  —  and  there  were  seven  of  them  —  remains 
where  he  was  ;  and  three  are  dead.  Old  J.  Q.  Adams  was  the 
delegate  from  Quincy,  and  drank  the  milk  that  was  left  in  his 
saucer  after  he  had  fished  out  the  strawberries  which  he  was 
lucky  enough  to  get  (I  got  neither  strawberries  nor  milk) :  he 
is  gone.  Mr.  Polk,  whom  nobody  ever  heard  of,  has  been 
President,  and  is  really  dead.  Gen.  Harrison,  whom  nobody 
ever  dreamed  of  for  any  thing  but  drinking  hard  cider,  has  been 
in  that  bad  eminence,  and  died.  Capt.  Taylor  is  not  dead  ;  only 
buried  alive  as  his  fathers  were  before  him.  And  now  a  fourth 
man,  then  as  unheard  of  as  a  new  baby,  is  President ;  and  I 
think  the  worshipful  Whigs  will  one  day  wish  that  they  had 
never  heard  of  him,  or  never  touched  him. 

Not  a  word  from  you  yet :  only  think  of  that !  I  hope 
you  will  take  care  and  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  sea- 
serpent. 

These  must  suffice  as  specimens  of  this  man's  extraor 
dinary  facility,  fulness,  and  variety.  They  present  but  a 
meagre  sketch  of  his  sympathetic  relations  with  people. 
It  must  be  enough  to  mention  that  this  busy  man  found 
moments  to  write  letters  to  a  little  boy  six  or  seven  years 
old,  living  with  his  parents  in  Europe ;  and  to  print  them 
laboriously  with  the  pen,  that  the  child  might  be  able  to 
spell  them  out  for  himself.  The  temptation  is  great  to 
print  a  curiously-elaborate  jeu  d* esprit,  in  the  shape  of 
the  biography  of  St.  Gambrinus,  sent  to  his  friend  Mrs. 
Apthorp.  It  occupies,  exclusive  of  the  illustrations,  four 
pages  of  foolscap  ;  and  is  a  pure  piece  of  rollicking  fun,  — 
a  jolly  bubble  escaping  to  the  upper  air  from  a  deep  well 
of  native  joyousness,  which  was  not  satisfied  to  play  in 
ordinary  fountains  of  frolic.  Miss  F.  P.  Cobbe,  who  was 
present  when  it  was  opened  at  Montreux,  pronounced  it  a 
delicious  satire  on  the  illustrated  travels  and  overdone  pic 
ture  biographies  of  the  day.  The  pictures,  fifty  in  number, 
were  cut  out  of  children's  story-books,  papers,  cheap  prints, 
advertising  columns,  and  pasted  on  the  thin  letter-sheet  in 
most  amusing  order.  And  this  was  done  in  the  summer 


316  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  1858,  when  his  animal  spirits  must  have  been  at  their 
lowest  point !  But  the  water  was  never  so  low  in  his  spring 
that  thirsty  souls  could  not  come  to  him  freely  in  their 
need  for  a  long  draught  or  a  drop  of  moisture.  These 
heaps  of  letters,  now  brown  and  lifeless,  gladdened  many 
a  wilderness,  and  made  solitary  places  sing,  when  they 
issued  from  his  exuberant  heart.  It  is  enough  for  us  to 
know  that  the  refreshing  tide  never  failed  those  who  came 
to  it.  But,  when  the  spring  is  dried  up,  the  standing  water 
in  the  reservoir  becomes  tasteless. 

The  letters  that  follow  show  the  breadth  of  his  sympa 
thies,  as  the  preceding  show  their  warmth. 

To  E.  Desor. 

INDIANAPOLIS,  IND.,  Oct.  18,  1854. 

DEAR  DESOR,  —  Here  I  am  a  thousand  miles  from  dear  old 
sedate  Boston.  I  am  on  a  lecturing-expedition.  I  am  to  lec 
ture  eleven  times,  and  to  preach  once,  in  Indiana,  Michigan, 
Ohio,  and  Pennsylvania.  I  have  many  things  to  say  about  the 
country  and  the  people.  I  wish  I  had  you  to  help  me  observe, 
and  to  generalize  after  the  facts  are  known.  The  WEST,  which 
I  have  now  visited  three  times,  impresses  me  much  with  the 
width  of  all  things.  There  is  a  certain  largeness  to  every 
thing,  —  streams,  plains,  trees,  pumpkins,  apples,  swine  (a  hog 
in  Ohio,  1854,  weighed,  alive,  1,980  pounds;  another,  2,150), 
and  men.  But  there  is  a  certain  coarseness  of  fibre  also  notice 
able  in  all  things.  The  wood  is  coarse-grained  ;  the  nuts  are  big 
and  fat,  not  nice  and  sweet ;  the  apples  have  a  coarse  texture,  all 
the  vegetables,  and  all  the  fruits.  Did  you  ever  see  the  fishes 
of  the  Ohio  ?  They  are  the  most  uncouth-looking  monsters  I 
ever  saw,  save  the  Roman  fishes  in  the  market  at  Rome, — 
the  CATFISH,  an  ugly-looking  devil,  with  a  face  like  an  owl ; 
the  SPOON-BILLED  CATFISH  (here  is  a  picture  of  the 
"  Spoon-bill  Cat :  "  he  weighed  about  eighty  pounds  :  his  spoon 
bill  was  two  feet  eight  inches :  he  looked  like  Dr.  F r), 

looking  yet  worse ;  the  BUFFALO  (an  overgrown  sculpin\  the 
RED  HORSE,  and  the  SUCKER.  One  must  be  hard  pushed  to 
eat  one  of  these  wretches.  The  men  look  sickly,  yellow,  and 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  317 

flabby.  In  Indiana  I  saw  but  one  rosy-cheeked  girl,  about 
eighteen  or  nineteen.  "  Were  you  born  here  ?  " —  "  No,  sir  :  in 
New  Hampshire."  —  "I  thought  so."  I  saw  three  or  four  hun 
dred  children  in  the  schools  at  Indianapolis  ;  not  a  rosy  cheek. 
The  women  have  no  bosoms,  or,  as  "  the  professor  "  would  say, 
"  a  very  imperfect  development  of  the  glandular  formation." 
They  are  tall  and  bony,  their  hair  lank,  their  faces  thin  and 
flabby-cheeked. 

What  effect  is  this  Western  climate  to  have  on  the  human 
race  ?  It  must  check  the  intensity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  charac 
ter.  The  fertility  of  the  soil,  the  dulness  of  the  air,  the  general 
enervating  influence  of  the  physical  circumstances,  must  deterio 
rate  the  human  being  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Health  is  poor ; 
activity  small,  in  comparison  with  New  England.  You  are  right 
in  your  estimate  of  American  climate  on  Europeans.  When 
Dr.  F.  the  pachyderm  came  here,  he  weighed  293  pounds  :  he 
has  lost  80  pounds,  —  over  twenty-seven  per  cent.  But  I  fear 
the  West  deteriorates  Americans  quite  as  much.  It  is  too  early 
to  undertake  to  determine  the  future  character  of  the  Western 
ers  ;  but  this  is  pretty  plain,  —  they  will  no  more  have  the  same 
energy  as  the  New-Englanders  than  the  Britons  have  the  same 
as  the  Norsemen  and  Danes  who  went  from  Scandinavia  to 
England. 

There  has  been  a  great  baby-show  in  Ohio.  One  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  babies  were  offered  for  prizes.  One  received 
three  hundred  dollars  ;  one,  two  hundred  dollars  ;  one,  one  hun 
dred  dollars ;  and,  besides,  several  gratuities  were  given  to 
others.  The  prize,  of  course,  was  given  to  the  mother.  I  think 
Jonathan  is  the  first  to  offer  prizes  to  the  best  baby.  An  agricul 
tural  society  in  England,  a  few  years  ago,  gave  twenty-five 
pounds  for  the  prize  ox,  and  five  shillings  for  the  model  peasant. 
But  you  will  see  an  account  of  the  baby-show  in  "  The  New- 
York  Tribune." 


Here  the  letter  suddenly  breaks  off ;  but  in  others  the 
writer  reverts  again  and  again  to  the  humanity  of  the  New 
World.  It  was  not  as  a  speculative  philosopher  merely, 
but  as  a  deep  lover  of  his  kind,  that  he  watched  the  shift 
ing  problems  of  his  age. 
27* 


318  THEODORE  PARKER. 


To  Prof.  E.  Desor. 

WEST  NEWTON,  Aug.  9,  1852. 

DEAR  DESOR, — Your  very  welcome  letter  came  in  due 
time,  and  gladdened  all  our  hearts.  We  were  glad  to  find  you 
were  well,  and  your  brother  in  no  worse  condition.  Of  course, 
he  knows  nothing  of  me  ;  yet,  as  he  is  your  brother,  I  beg  you 
to  present  him  my  best  wishes  and  kind  regards.  It  delighted 
us  all  to  find  that  you  were  received  so  kindly  both  at  Neuf- 
chatel  and  at  Paris  ;  but  I  always  supposed  it  would  be  so,  and 
that  your  enemies  were  confined  to  Cambridge  and  its  hunker 
neighborhood. 

You  kindly  asked  if  I  would  like  to  have  a  set  of  the 
microscopic  specimens  which  somebody  is  preparing.  I  should 
like  them  much.  If  they  are  sent  to  M.  Bossange,  n  Quai 
Voltaire,  Paris,  care  of  Little  and  Brown,  Boston,  they  will 
reach  me  in  safety.  Let  me  know  the  cost,  and  I  will  send  it. 
So  if  any  thing  remarkable  appears  in  the  way  of  philosophy, 
science,  or  any  thing  of  note  :  you  know  how  gladly  I  shall 
receive  it.  By  the  way,  you  did  not  give  me  the  address  of 
your  friend  the  German  bookseller  at  Paris. 

Now  a  word  about  the  politics  of  Europe.  It  has  long 
seemed  to  me  that  France  was  in  its  decadence;  that  the  phe 
nomena  of  the  Bas  Empire  are  getting  reproduced.  Just  now, 
there  are  great  families  in  Europe  :  I.  The  Italo-Greek  and 
their  descendants ;  2.  The  Celtic ;  3.  The  Teutonic ;  4.  The 
Ugrian,  comprising  the  Hungarians,  Finns,  Lithuanians,  and 
Lapps;  5.  The  Turkoman;  6.  The  Slaves.  I  take  it  the 
Turks  will  be  conquered  and  subjugated  by  Russia ;  that 
the  Ugrians  will  come  also  under  the  same  power ;  and  all  the 
Slaves  unite  in  one  great,  monstrous  nation.  The  effort  of 
the  Hungarians,  it  seems  to  me,  is  only  that  of  a  nationality 
about  to  perish.  The  Italo-Greek  will  never  rally,  I  fear: 
indeed,  there  is  no  example  in  history  of  an  old  race  becoming 
young  and  vigorous  again.  What  is  to  be  hoped  for  from 
Greece,  Italy,  or  Spain,  the  two  last  not  only  old,  but  with  the 
Catholic  religion  on  their  backs  ?  The  Celtic  race  will  rapidly 
disappear.  The  language  will  not  last  a  hundred  years  in  Scot 
land,  Wales,  or  Ireland,  it  seems  to  me.  Facility  for  inter 
course  destroys  local  dialects  in  Europe,  as  it  prevents  their 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  319 

formation  in  America.  France,  partly  Celtic,  partly  Italo- 
Greek,  and  partly  Teutonic  (by  the  Alemanni,  the  Franci,  the 
Burgundi,  mixing  with  the  old  Galli  or  Keltae),  seems  likely  to 
fall  gradually  into  the  condition  of  Italy  and  Spain.  Then 
there  are  left  two  great  families,  —  the  Teutonic  and  the 
Sclavic.  In  Scandinavia  and  the  Alps,  I  take  it,  they  will  keep 
up  liberal  governments,  and  become  progressively  more  liberal ; 
but  in  the  centre  of  Europe,  it  seems  to  me,  this  family  will 
continually  retreat  before  the  Slaves.  Then  England,  with  her 
immense  practical  talent,  energy,  and  materialism,  seems  to  me 
likely  to  become  more  and  more  powerful,  more  and  more 
liberal.  This  is  a  remarkable  peculiarity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
race  :  they  never  fight  for  glory,  but  for  gain.  France  is  poorer 
for  all  her  "  glorious  "  victories  :  England  is  richer.  Then 
France  covets  old  countries  :  England  covets  new  ones.  Look 
at  her  possessions  now,  —  Great  Britain,  Gibraltar,  Malta,  Greek 
Islands,  a  footing  in  Greece,  right  of  way  in  Egypt,  little  bits 
of  land  all  along  the  Gulf  of  Guinea,  South  Africa  (and  is 
now  fighting  the  Caffres,  and  will  soon  have  all  the  east  of 
Africa),  India,  a  footing  in  Siam  (and  is  marching  by  that 
route  to  China),  a  footing  in  China,  New  Holland,  New  Zea 
land,  a  footing  in  Borneo,  multitudes  of  islands  in  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  Jamaica,  Bermudas,  half  of  North  America.  She 
has  now  a  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  subjects,  and  is  horri 
bly  rich  and  formidably  wise.  Then  there  is  the  Anglo-Saxon 
American,  just  like  his  mother,  with  the  same  materialism,  the 
same  vulgarity,  the  same  lust  for  land,  and  longing  for  indi 
vidual  freedom.  I  take  it,  that,  a  hundred  years  hence,  there 
will  be  only  two  great  factors  in  the  civilization  of  Chris 
tendom  ;  viz.,  the  Anglo-Saxon  family  (in  two  divisions,  —  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Briton  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  American)  and  the 
Sclavic  family.  The  history  of  mankind  is  getting  simplified. 
It  would  not  be  surprising  if  these  two  tribes,  then,  should  con 
quer  all  the  globe.  In  due  time,  I  trust,  a  nobler  race  of  men 
will  spring  up,  with  higher  notions,  to  establish  a  higher  civili 
zation.  We  Anglo-Saxons  are  Romans  of  industry,  as  the 
Romans  were  Anglo-Saxons  of  war.  See  how  we  invade 
nations  with  our  peddlers  and  workmen  !  True,  England  and 
America  are  just  alike  in  this. 

I  expect  a  good  deal  from  the  Sclavic  family,     Look  at  their 


320  THEODORE  PARKER. 

great  territorial  possessions  !  —  half  Europe,  half  Asia,  a  big 
piece  of  North  America.  Look  at  their  language,  with  every 
sound  of  all  the  alphabets  of  the  race- except  the  th;  at  their 
large  heads,  the  biggest  in  the  world  ;  at  their  power  in  diplo 
macy,  ruling  all  the  courts  of  Europe  for  fifty  years  !  Note 
the  steady  advance  of  the  race  in  territory,  in  internal  civili 
zation,  and  all  art.  I  think  it  will  not  be  long  before  Russia 
is  at  Constantinople,  and  then  at  Athens.  Let  England  go  to 
Naples,  to  Rome,  to  Thebes,  and  Russia  may  go  to  Byzantium 
and  Smyrna. 

Well,  these  are  dreams,  —  only  dreams.  Poor,  short-sighted 
mortals  !  our-  faculty  of  prevision  is  most  exceedingly  little. 
Consider  that  I  am  dreaming. 

Now  a  word  of  America.  I  think  Pierce  and  his  Democrats 
will  come  into  power ;  that  this  will  be  the  aim  of  his  adminis 
tration, —  to  divide  California  into  two  States  (one  a  slave 
State),  to  get  another  slice  from  Mexico  (slave  territory),  to 
make  slave  States  out  of  New  Mexico  and  Utah,  to  re-annex 
Cuba.  This  re-annexation  of  Cuba  will  be  the  darling  object  of 
the  administration.  It  will  be  popular,  i.  With  the  people,  who 
want  a  great  territory -,  just  as  all  the  farmers  want  a  great  farm. 

2.  With  the  CAPITALISTS  :    the  capitalists  will  like  it  for  these 
reasons,  —  they  will  then  have  a  chance  to  speculate  in  cotton 
stock,  and  make  lots  of  money.     Then  there  must  be  a  national 
debt  of  a  hundred  million  dollars,  or  more  :  that  will  give  them, 
I.  An  opportunity  to  defraud  the  government  in  getting  the 
stock.     2.  An   opportunity  for  a   safe  investment  of  money. 

3.  A  high  tariff  to  protect  their  manufactures.     Then  the  trade 
with  Cuba  will  be  so  much  increased,  that  the  merchants  will 
like  it ;  and  Northern  gentlemen  will  like  to  have  estates  in  Cuba 
to  live  on  in  the  winter,  and  escape  taxation  by  moving  thither 
from  Boston,  as  they  now  run  out  into  the  country  on  the  last 
of  April  to  escape  taxing  the  first  of  May.     Then  the  produc 
tiveness  of  the  island  will  be  much  enhanced  if  Jonathan  gets 
hold  of  it. 

The  great  difficulty  is  on  the  side  of  England  and  Spain. 
There  is  a  secret  treaty,  I  think,  between  the  two  nations 
(France,  also,  I  think,  is  a  party  to  it),  which  guarantees  the 
possession  of  Cuba  to  Spain.  But,  if  we  can  buy  it  of  Spain, 
that  nation  is  quieted.  But  England  desires  the  abolition  of 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  321 

slavery.  I  take  it,  the  government  cares  nothing  about  it ;  but 
the  people  do.  Now,  it  is  from  the  action  of  England  that  I 
have  much  to  hope.  I  do  not  believe  that  American  slavery 
will  see  the  year  1900.  If  we  undertake  to  get  Cuba  by  vio 
lence,  the  governor  of  the  island  has  orders  to  liberate  the 
slaves  at  once.  England  will  not  suffer  us  to  keep  slaves  there 
without  a  word  against  it.  I  think  we  shall  have  a  little 
trouble.  "  The  pitcher  is  broke  that  goes  oft  to  the  well,"  says 
the  proverb.  If  the  pitcher  of  slavery  does  not  get  broken,  it 
is  not  in  consequence  of  not  going  to  the  well. 

I  see  one  of  your  Swiss-German  gentlemen  (Louis  Vertisch) 
has  written  a  real  German  philosopher's  book  on  the  geological 
changes  of  the  earth  ("  Die  jiingste  Katastrophe  des  Erdball :  " 
Brunswick,  1852),  in  which  he  maintains  that  an  unknown 
cosmic  mass  came  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  earth,  and 
drew  away  part  of  our  atmosphere.  I  suppose  all  the  evils 
in  the  world,  from  "Adam's  fall  to  the  German  revolution," 
are  to  be  ascribed  to  the  "  unknown  cosmic  mass."  I  have 
before  me  a  new  edition  of  "  Carpenter's  Physiology  "  (8vo,  pp. 
1080),  which  posts  up  the  literature  to  the  year  1851.  It  is  all 
new  except  a  hundred  and  fifty  pages,  and  is  a  grand  work. 
Owen's  distinction  between  a  lover  and  a  loved  is  there 
observed.  '  I  have  read  a  book  of  M.  Mathieu  ("  Etudes  cli- 
niques  sur  les  Maladies  des  Femmes:  "  Paris,  1848),  which  con 
tains  many  things  that  are  interesting, — on  hysteria,  nervous 
ness,  and  all  sorts  of  exaltation,  clairvoyance,  possession,  &c. 
The  superior  science  of  the  French  doctors  over  the  English 
and  American  springs  in  the  eyes  at  once. 

Here  we  have  nothing  new  of  any  importance.  I  had  a  kind, 
nice  letter  from  "  the  professor  "  a  few  days  ago,  at  Pottsville, 
making  new  discoveries  in  "  the  infra  carboniferous  series  " 
"  almost  daily."  Dear,  good,  kind,  feminine  soul  !  we  must 
both  meet  him  at  some  association  of  geologists  on  the  planet 
Jupiter  ;  and  "  mi  brother  and  I  "  must  have  just  returned  from 
the  planet  Leverrier,  with  specimens  of  the  matutinal  series  of 
limestone.  How  pleasant  it  will  be  !  Well,  he  is  a  good  soul, 
and  I  like  him  dearly. 

Now  I  must  tell  you  more  about  the  good  folks  here  at  Bos 
ton,  &c.  Mrs.  Howe  and  Chev.  have  just  gone  to  Newport. 
Howe  looks  ill,  and  seems  sad :  things  go  not  right.  Mrs. 


322 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


Howe  sends  the  kindest  regards  to  the  Stets  Luber-wurdig  in 
return  for  yours.  "  The  old  count  "  is  at  Newport  again,  railing 
against  Kossuth.  "  Ugsh  !  "  says  he,  "  have  you  got  the  great 
Kossuth  fever  ?  "  —  "  Not  even  the  great  Gurowski  fever,"  re 
plied  some  one.  A  queer  fellow,  that  Gurowski,  but,  I  think,  more 
honest  than  men  judge.  P^skevitch  gave  his  word  of  honor 
to  Gurowski's  sister-in-law  at  Warsaw,  that,  if  he  (Gurowski) 
desired  it,  all  things  should  be  arranged,  and  he  might  return 
with  honor.  The  old  count  wrote  him  a  violent  refusal. 
"  Noh,  noh ! "  said  he.  Old  Fuster  is  actually  stouter  than 
ever,  but  has  new  pains  in  the  Beinen  (Beinsangste),  —  "  effect  of 
poison."  He  is  no  longer  the  "  mastodon  Kalb  "  which  you 
used  to  call  him :  he  is  the  mastodon  selbst.  He  has  enough  to 
do  in  "giving  hours,"  as  he  used  to  call  it;  and  now  speaks 
quite  well,  but  rather  "  sanft,"  as  he  says.  He  still  thinks  the 
Boston  Germans  are  schlechte  Kerlen.  He  desires  me  to  remem 
ber  him  to  you  after  the  most  friendly  sort.  He  is  one  of  the 
kindliest  and  most  womanly-tender  souls  that  ever  lived. 

We  have  a  new  German  paper  in  Boston,  "  The  New- Eng 
land  Zeitung,"  conducted  by  Wagner,  Domscke,  and  Schlager  : 
antislavery  all  through.  But  just  now  it  has  come  out  for  athe 
ism,  and  denies  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  "  Es  giebt  kein 
Gott,  und  keine  Unsterblichkeit,"  is  its  creed.  Miss  Stevenson 
is  at  Vermont.  I  go  to  bring  her  back  soon.  Wife  sends  all 
manner  of  love  to  you.  I  think  you,  Howe,  and  I  shall  yet 
make  our  excursion  to  the  tropics.  —  Good-by  ! 
Yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  the  Same. 

BOSTON,  Jan.  29,  1853. 

DEAR  DESOR, —  There  are  two  reasons  why  you  could  not 
read  my  letter  of  last  summer,  —  i.  You  have  forgotten  your 
English  ;  2.  You  are  growing  old.  But  this  shall  be  so  plain, 
that,  if  you  put  on  your  spectacles,  you  shall  read  it  all  through. 
Well,  I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  last  kind  letter,  and  am  much 
rejoiced  that  you  went  to  the  German  scientific  meeting,  and 
saw  some  parts  of  your  native  land  which  I  have  seen  before. 
I  wish  I  could  have  been  with  you.  Some  time  we  will  journey 
together  all  over  Germany,  and  up  to  the  North,  "lighting 
our  pipes  at  the  midnight  sun."  Nay,  perhaps  we  will  go  down 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  323 

to  the  equator  in  America,  and  see  the  grandeur  of  tropic 
vegetation.  Did  you  see  Alexander  von  Humboldt  in  your 
visit  to  Berlin  ?  I  have  more  curiosity  to  see  him  than  to  see 
all  the  Konigen  and  Kaisern  that  ever  stood  on  the  world.  He 
is  a  noble  specimen  of  a  man.  When  I  was  at  Berlin  in  1844, 
I  had  letters  to  him  ;  but  he  was  not  in  the  city :  so  I  missed 
the  good  man.  His  "  Kosmos  "  seems  to  me  a  little  over-ripe  :  the 
tone  is  old-mannish  ;  not  enough  of  the  youth  of  genius  in  it. 

I  suppose  Europe  will  now  return  to  the  quiet  pursuit  of 
science  and  literature.  "  II  n'y  aura  pas  de  revolution  au- 
jourd'hui."  The  gens  de  salon  at  Paris  may  return  to  their 
opera,  their  petite  come" die,  and  their  jo  lies  filles ;  the  German 
Gelehrte  may  re-ascend  the  clouds,  and  thence  rain  down  new 
systems  of  philosophy,  Kritiken  der  reinen  Vernunft^  and  the 
like.  It  seems  as  if  another  Kant  was  possible  now.  But  I 
fear  that  all  Continental  Europe  will  fall  a  prey  to  what  the  old 
count  would  call  CZARISMUS.  Liberty  is  an  Alpine  plant  in  the 
flora  of  Continental  Europe.  It  grows  in  Scandinavia  and 
Switzerland  ;  but  where  else  ? 

In  Continental  Europe  there  are  four  great  families  of  the 
Caucasian  race  :  1st,  The  Celtic  ;  2d,  The  Italo-Greek,  or  Classic 
family ;  3d,  The  Teutonic  ;  4th,  The  Sclavic.  The  destinies  of 
Europe  are  in  their  hands.  The  influence  of  Hungary  and 
Turkey  is  only  exceptional,  and  at  this  day  quite  feeble,  it  seems 
to  me  ;  only  restrictive,  and  not  initiatory.  Now,  for  the  Celtic 
family,  I  expect  nothing  new  or  great  in  the  political  way.  It 
is  only  in  France  that  they  have  any  power.  In  Scotland, 
Wales,  Ireland,  they  are  nothing.  The  Spaniards,  mixed  up  of 
Ibero-Basques,  of  Celts  (Celtiberi),  of  Classics,  and  of  Teutons 
(Visigotht),  are  of  no  account.  Well,  in  France  you  are  re- 
enacting  the  old  scenes  of  the  Bas  Empire.  Paris  is  the 
Byzantium  of  the  nineteenth  century.  What  can  you  hope  of 
a  people  that  are  the  prey  of  an  adventurer,  who,  in  a  time  of 
revolution,  lands  with  a  tame  eagle  and  a  pocket  full  of  debts, 
a  miserable  wretch  without  character  or  talents,  and  in  two 
years  is  emperor  of  the  forty  million  Frenchmen  ? 

The  Classic  family  is  well-nigh  dead.  They  live  only  by  the 
bones  of  their  fathers,  the  glorious  names  of  Greece  and 
Rome.  Political  liberty  cannot  revive  in  that  worn-out  soil. 

Then  there  is  left  the  Teutonic  and  the  Sclamc  family.    What 


324  THEODORE  PARKER. 

do  you  expect  from  Germany  for  the  next  five  hundred  years  ? 
Will  freedom  get  established  there  ?  What  will  Russia  d?  ?  I 
have  more  hope  of  the  Sclavonics  than  of  the  Continental  Ger 
mans.  In  a  hundred  years,  it  seems  to  me,  there  will  be  but 
two  great  powers  in  Christendom  ;  viz.,  the  Anglo-Saxons  of 
England  and  America  and  the  Sclavonics.  I  cannot  believe 
that  the  Germans  or  French  will  stand  against  these  hundred 
millions  of  Slaves.  America  will  soon  be  the  citadel  of  free 
dom,  with  three  million  bondmen  in  the  donjon-keep. 

Here  in  Massachusetts  the  Whigs  have  regained  the  power. 
The  Hunkers  are  triumphant  again  to-day:  they  have  elected 
their  governor  (Mr.  Clifford),  and  got  all  the  officers.  Mr. 
Everett  will  probably  be  the  senator.  The  ministers  are  wor 
shipping  Daniel  Webster.  The  politicians  think  his  opinions  are 
an  "  amendment  to  the  Constitution :  "  the  clergy  think  his  life 
one  of  "  the  evidences  of  religion." 

We  have  nothing  new  in  the  way  of  literature  or  science  or 
art.  Stansbury's  "  Survey  of  New  Mexico  "  I  have  for  you, 
and  will  send  it  soon,  with  several  things  of  my  own.  "  The 
professor  "  is  as  happy  as  surroundings  can  make  him.  He  has 
a  little  neuralgia,  and  a  "  slight  attack  of  erysipelas  in  the  nose." 
The  good  soul  was  never  happier,  and  is  as  wise  as  the  French 
Institute.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  him  this  winter,  and  love 
him  more  and  more.  He  lectured  to  the  Natural-history  Society 
the  other  day  on  —  what  do  you  think  ? — on  Earthquake  Waves. 
He  won  the  admiration  of  all  that  heard  him,  —  such  clearness 
of  statement  with  such  nicety  of  speech  ! 

"  Old  Fiister,"  as  you  call  him,  is  often  here.     Miss  S 

kindly  teaches  him  English.  His  Bein  is  much  better,  and  he 
has  got  a  new  Rock.  He  is  a  dear  good  soul,  and  is  translating 
a  little  volume  of  sermons  of  mine  just  now  published.  Dr. 
C.  T.  Jackson  is  fighting  for  ether,  and  gets  no  release  from 
pain  by  his  own  discovery.  It  is  not  anesthetic  to  him.  The 
Cabots  are  both  well :  I  saw  them  to-day  ;  and  they  send  their 
bes :  regards  to  you.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe  are  in  fine  condition, 
and  send  also. their  kindest  salutations.  The  doctor  and  I  go 
to  New  York  this  day.  He  is  one  of  the  editors  of  "The 
Commonwealth,"  and  slashes  "  The  Daily  Advertiser  "  with  no 
mercy.  I  saw  your  friend  Mrs.  John  Howe  yesterday.  .  She 
was  at  meeting,  and  looks  quite  well.  You  don't  know  how  we 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  325 

miss  you.  We  eat  the  sacramental  cheese  on  the  Natural- 
history  Society  nights,  and  think  of  Desor  ;  and  I  imitate  you, 
and  ask  after  "  Katz,"  &c.  Wife  and  Miss  Stevenson  ser.d 
their  kindest  regards.  Do  go  do\\  n  to  Italy  with  your  brother 
and  see  Rome,  Psestum,  Vesuvius.  Send  me  the  microscopic 
objects,  and  tell  me  the  address  of  that  bookseller  at  Paris.  I 
want  some  books  from  him. 

Believe  me  ever  most  truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

I  have  a  letter  from  Siljestrom.  His  wife  has  a  son 
Hans,  and  he  a  book,  —  "  Resa  i  Forenta  Staternia."  I  shall 
send  him  "  Mother  Goose  "  for  the  Hanschen.  He  says  Swe 
den  is  dull,  dull,  dull. 

My  sermon  on  Webster  will  be  printed  in  a  pamphlet  form 
in  a  few  weeks  ;  and  I  will  send  it  to  you,  with  sundry  other 
things.  Do  go  to  Italy,  if  your  brother  is  well  enough.  Send 
me  some  early  flower  in  your  letter.  I  value  your  gentiana 
much.  One  of  the  clergymen  said,  "  There  was  only  one  thing 
above  Daniel  Webster :  that  was  the  Almighty  God."  There 
have  been  more  than  a  hundred  and  thirty  eulogies  of  Webster 
printed  :  only  three  have  found  any  fault  with  the  man,  —  May's 
(at  Syracuse),  Higginson's  (at  Worcester),  and  mine.  Write  as 
often  as  you  can  conveniently  :  but  do  not  distress  yourself  ;  for 
I  know  how  many  friends  there  are  to  claim  your  attention. 
Some  time  or  another,  I  must  see  you  again  on  this  side  or  the 
other  of  the  ocean.  Good-by  ! 

To  Peter  Lesley,  Philadelphia. 

BOSTON,  Nov.  15,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  LESLEY,  —  It  did  me  great  good  to  see  your 
handwriting  again  ;  but  I  fear  there  is  little  to  be  done  this  year 
in  the  way  of  lecturing,  even  on  iron.  The  lecturers  hereabouts 
complain  of  no  work.  Some  societies  have  sent  out  their  circu 
lars,  and  cancelled  the  engagements  already  made  ;  others  have 
"  suspended  "  for  this  season.  The  way  to  make  yourself  known 
in  that  way  is  to  send  a  line  to  "  The  New- York  Tribune,"  and 
ask  it  to  put  your  name  in  its  list  of  lecturers.  But  I  fear  little 
will  be  done  this  winter.  Labor  stops,  and  all  stops. 
28 


326  THEODORE  PARKER. 

I  wish  you  lived  where  I  could  see  you  often,  and  talk  over 
matters  of  science.  Since  Desor  has  gone,  and  now  Prof.  H. 
D.  Rogers,  I  am  in  great  want  of  scientific  company.  By  the 
way,  do  you  see  the  attack  which  Agassiz  has  made  on  Desor  ? 
It  is  in  a  note  on  page  ninety-seven  of  his  "  Essay  on  Classi 
fication,"  so  called ;  which  is  the  general  introduction  to  his 
contributions  to  the  "  Natural  History  of  the  United  States," 
volume  first,  and  is  just  published.  He  charges  Desor  with 
plagiarism  from  him,  Agassiz  !  I  make  no  doubt  that  the  boot 
was  on  the  other  leg,  and  that  Agassiz  took  from  Desor.  But 
we  shall  see  what  the  good  soul  will  say  for  himself  :  I  sent 
him  the  passage.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  think  of 
Agassiz' s  essay.  Three-quarters  of  it  is  on  the  subject  of  the 
"  Bridgewater  Treatises,"  chap.  i. ;  the  rest  on  Classification, 
chap.  ii. 

I  wish  you  would  tell  me  if  Agassiz,  in  chap,  i.,  removes  the 
difficulty  which  philosophers  find  in  their  way,  and  which  makes 
atheists  of  them,  so  the  ministers  say.  I  find  more  real 
atheism  amongst  theologians  than  amongst  philosophers.  The 
former  deny  the  substance  of  God  in  the  world  of  things  and 
men,  and  send  us  off  to  some  phantom  which  lives  (or  stays)  at 
a  distance,  and  now  and  then  "  intervenes  "  by  a  miracle,  —  this 
Deus  ex  machina;  they  are  ready  to  deny  his  laws.  But  the 
latter  deny  the  existence  of  that  God,  and  yet  admit  the  imma 
nent  reality  of  a  power  of  thought,  will,  and  execution,  which 
fills  all  space  and  all  time,  is  ever  active,  and  never  needs  to 
"  intervene  "  where  he  forever  dwells. 

Mr.  Agassiz  says  there  are  "  not  more  than  six  men  in  the 
United  States  who  can  understand  his  book,  and  perhaps  twelve 
or  twenty  in  Europe  :  "  so  I  suppose  it  would  be  presumptuous 
in  a  man  brought  up  on  Descartes,  Bacon,  Leibnitz,  and  Newton, 
and  fed  on  Kant,  Schelling,  and  Hegel,  not  to  speak  of  such 
babies  as  Plato  and  Aristotle,  to  think  of  comprehending  the 
popular  lecturing  of  this  Swiss  dissector  of  mud-turtles  (for 
I  take  it  this  chap.  i.  is  only  a  part  of  his  lectures  on  the 
Evidences  of  Religion  in  Nature,  delivered  at  Washington,  or 
somewhere  else).  Agassiz  is  a  man  of  great  talents,  great  in 
dustry.  His  power  of  analyzing  a  clam  or  a  turtle,  an  echino- 
derm  or  a  snail,  is  wonderful ;  his  skill  in  lecturing,  and  making 
the  philosophy  of  fish  pleasant  to  men  who  only  catch  and  eat 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  327 

them,  is  beyond  all  praise  :  but  when  he  comes  to  the  meta 
physics  of  all  science,  and  the  relation  of  the  clam  to  the 
Causal  Power  and  Providence  of  all  things  which  are,  I  should 
like  to  know  what  you  think  of  him.  With  hearty  regards  for 
you  and  yours,  —  those  with  the  incisors,  and  those  with  the 
molars,  — believe  me 

Yours  heartily, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  David  A.  Wasson. 

BOSTON,  Dec.  12, 1857. 

MY  DEAR  WASSON,  —  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  and  wel 
come  letter.  I  know  how  much  it  cost  you  to  write  it ;  and  that 
dims  my  joy  in  reading  it.  You  must  not  write  much.  You 
learned  to  labor  long  ago  :  now  "  learn  to  wait."  I  ate  my  lunch 
in  the  railroad-station,  and  thought  over  all  Higginson  said  in 
defence  of  the  Irish.  I  like  good  plump  criticism,  and  need  it 
oftener  than  I  get  it.  But  I  think  he  was  mainly  wrong,  and 
still  adhere  to  my  opinion  of  the  Celtic  Irish.  In  other  lectures  I 
have  showed  at  length  the  good  they  will  do  our  ethnology. 
When  I  give  this  again,  I  will  do  so,  and  name  the  good  qualities 
of  the  " gintleman  from  Carrrkk"  and  the  poor  wretches 
from  Africa. 

I  take  Blumenbach's  five  races  only  as  provisional,  —  five 
baskets  which,  will  hold  mankind,  and  help  us  handle  them.  In 
respect  to  power  of  civilization,  the  African  is  at  the  bottom,  the 
American  Indian  next.  The  history  of  the  world,  I  think,  shows 
this,  and  its  prehistoric  movement.  I  don't  say  it  will  always 
be  so  :  don't  know. 

You  and  I  don't  differ,  save  in  words,  about  the  Greeks.  In 
the  emotional  element  of  religion,  I  think  the  Shemites  surpass 
the  Indo-Germans  ;  and  the  Jews  were  at  the  head  of  the  She- 
mites.  (The  Phoenician  took  to  trade,  and  cared  no  more  about 
religion  than  a  Connecticut  tin-peddler,  who  joins  any  church  for 
a  dollar.  Somebody  found  one  of  the  scoundrels  —  a  mummy 
now  in  an  Egyptian  tomb  —  who  was  circumcised.  He  took  the 
religion  of  the  place  just  as  the  current  coin.)  Religious  emo 
tion,  religious  will,  I  think,  never  went  farther  than  with  the 
Jews.  But  their  intellect  was  sadly  pinched  in  those  narrow 
foreheads.  They  were  cruel  also,  —  always  cruel.  I  doubt  not 


328  THEODORE  PARKER. 

they  did  sometimes  kill  a  Christian  baby  at  the  Passover,  or  the 
anniversary  of  Raman's  famous  day.  If  it  had  been  a  Chris 
tian  man,  we  should  not  blame  them  much,  considering  how  they 
got  treated  by  men  who  worshipped  a  Jew  for  God.  They  were 
also  lecherous  :  no  language  on  earth,  I  think,  is  so  rich  in  terms 
for  sexual  mixing.  All  the  Shemites  are  given  to  flesh.  What 
mouths  they  have  !  —  full  of  voluptuousness  :  only  the  negro 
beats  them  there. 

The  Jews,  like  all  the  Shemites,  incline  to  despotism :  they 
know  no  other  government.  The  Old  Testament  knows  no  king 
but  one  absolute  :  the  New  Testament  is  no  wiser,  — if,  perhaps, 
you  bate  a  line  or  two  which  Jesus  spoke  ;  and  they  indicate  a 
feeling  more  than  a  thought.  The  New  Jerusalem  is  a  despot 
ism,  with  a  LAMB  for  the  autocrat,  —  a  pretty  lamb  too,  by 
the  way,  who  gathers  an  army  of  two  hundred  million  horse, 
and  routs  his  enemies  by  the  Euphrates,  and  then  comes  to 
Italy  and  kills  men,  till  he  makes  a  puddle  of  blood  two  hundred 
miles  wide  and  three  feet  deep  (see  Rev.  ix.  16 :  "And  the 
number  of  the  army  of  the  horsemen  were  two  hundred  thou 
sand  thousand ;  and  I  heard  the  number  of  them."  And  xiv. 
20  :  "  And  the  wine-press  was  trodden  without  the  city,  and  blood 
came  out  of  the  wine-press,  even  unto  the  horse-bridles,  by 
the  space  of  a  thousand  and  six  hundred  furlongs  ").  In  the  Old 
Testament,  Jehovah  is  KING,  —  a  terrible  king  too.  He  is  not  a 
constitutional  king,  but  arbitrary,  —  '•'•Thus  saith  the  Lord." 
There  is  no  proof  of  any  thing ;  no  appeal  to  individual  con 
sciousness.  With  the  Greeks  all  this  was  different ;  Indo-Ger- 
manic,  not  Shemite.  I  love  the  Greeks,  especially  the  authors 
you  name  ;  but,  for  moral  helps  and  religious  emotional  helps,  I 
go  to  that  dear  Old  Testament,  for  all  ^schylus  and  Sophocles, 
&c.  Do  you  remember  any  example  of  remorse  in  the  Greek 
literature  ?  The  Hebrews  had  a  pretty  savage  conception  of 
God  ;  but  he  is  earnest:  there  is  no  frivolity  attributed  to  Jeho 
vah.  He  is  the  most  efficient  deity  of  old  times,  —  none  of  your 
dilettanti  gods.  Besides,  he  is  wholly  superior  to  the  material 
world ;  while  none  of  the  Greeks  or  Romans  got  above  the  idea, 
that,  in  some  particulars,  it  was  more  than  any  deity  or  all  deities. 

Get  well  as  fast  as  you  can. 

Yours, 

T.  P. 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  329 

The  following  needs  no  introduction  :  — 

To  George  Rifley. 

BOSTON,  Sept.  21,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  GEORGE,  —  I  will  try  and  write  so  that  you  can 
read  the  matter.  I  have  just  read  your  papers  on  Pierpont  and 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  I  think  I  love  and  admire  Emerson 
more  than  you  do:  so  there  are  some  things  in  the  paper  which  I 
don't  quite  agree  with.  But,  in  the  main,  I  like  it.  The  spirit  is 
high  and  generous.  It  is  admirably  written.  You  never  wrote 
better  than  in  the  three  sketches  of  "  Pierpont,"  "  Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson,"  and  "  Andrews  Norton."  '/  Yas,  it  was  wall  done. 
But  ugh  he  lied  !  He  knows  he  lied  ! " 

There  is  no  shadow  in  your  picture  of  Pierpont.  You  once 
gave  me  an  analysis  of  Pierpont  (and  of  Sumner  at  the  same 
time),  which  I  thought  was  most  masterly.  You  gave  the  shadow 
then  which  both  made  the  picture  more  artistic,  and  the  noble 
traits  in  Pierpont  yet  more  salient.  But  I  like  your  portrait  of 
Pierpont  better  than  that  of  Emerson  ;  and  I  am  almost  glad 
that  you  did  not  put  in  the  criticisms  which  you  made  to  me  on 
Pierpont.  Just  now,  considering  all  that  he  has  done  and  suf 
fered,  it  would  seem  a  little  ungenerous  to  be  quite  just.  All 
pictures  must  be  painted  in  reference  to  the  light  they  are  to 
hang  in  and  be  looked  at.  Now,  when  you  come  to  tell  about 
me,  I  wish  you  would  make  a  picture  which  will  make  me 
ashamed  of  what  is  ill  in  me  and  in  my  works.  I  need  a  thor 
ough  criticism  from  an  able  hand.  It  is  too  much  to  expect  in 
private ;  but  I  should  read  with  great  interest  a  critique  which 
told  me  of  my  faults  of  nature,  culture,  motive,  conduct,  aim,  and 
manner.  I  know  I  must  have  made  great  errors  ;  but  I  don't 
see  them.  I  am  afraid  that  the  hollow  of  my  foot  "  will  make  a 
hole  in  the  ground,"  and  somebody  will  one  day  fall  into  it.  I 
should  like  to  be  criticised  as  I  criticised  Emerson ;  only  better. 
Now,  don't  let  your  friendship  run  away  with  your  judgment:  — 

"  Nought  extenuate,  and  nothing  add." 

I  know  you  will  set  down  nought  in  malice.     But  here  are 
yet  one  or  two  things  which  I  want  in  the  picture.     I  love  sci 
ence  in  almost  all  departments,  from  the  most  abstract  meta 
physics  to  the  most  concrete  application  of  Nature's  laws  in 
28* 


330  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the  new  machine  for  planing  oblique  and  irregular  surfaces, 
which  one  of  my  neighbors  put  in  his  shop  last  week.  I 
love  all  departments  of  natural  history,  and  am  at  home  with 
beast,  bird,  fish,  and  insect,  and  all  manner  of  (phaenogamous) 
plants. 

When  a  boy,  I  had  an  intense  passion  for  beauty  in  every 
form.  I  knew  all  the  rare  flowers,  wild  or  cultivated.  When  a 
little  boy  in  petticoats,  I  used  to  lie  all  the  forenoon  in  June, 
and  watch  the  great  clouds,  and  see  the  incessant  play  of  form 
and  color.  There  was  a  pond  a  mile  off,  whither  I  used  to  go 
a-fishing ;  but  I  only  caught  the  landscape.  I  never  fished  much, 
but  looked  down  into  the  water,  and  saw  the  shadows  on  the 
other  side  creep  over  the  water,  and  listened  to  the  sounds  from 
the  distant  farms.  When  I  was  six  or  seven  years  old,  there 
came  a  perfectly  beautiful  young  girl  to  our  little  district-school : 
she  was  seven  to  eight.  She  fascinated  my  eyes  from  my  book, 
and  I  was  chid  for  not  getting  my  lessons.  It  never  happened 
before ;  never  after  the  little  witch  went  away.  She  only 
staid  a  week;  and  I  cried  bitterly  when  she  went  off.  She 
was  so  handsome  I  did  not  dare  speak  to  her,  but  loved  to 
keep  near  her  as  a  butterfly  to  a  thistle-blossom.  Her  name 
was  Narcissa.  She  fell  over  into  the  flood  of  time,  and  vanished 
before  I  was  seven  years  old.  I  loved  beauty  of  form  before 
beauty  of  color.  I  wonder  if  this  is  usual.  You  know  beauty 
of  sound  (not  artificial,  of  music)  filled  me  with  ravishment. 
The  winds  in  the  leaves,  and  the  rushing  brooks,  were  a  delight 
from  the  earliest  boyhood  till  now.  Fine  little  pieces  of  literary 
art  I  culled  out  in  childhood,  and  committed  them  to  memory. 
It  was  no  effort :  it  did  itself.  Especially  poetry  was  my  delight. 
My  sisters  had  a  little  bagful  of  clippings  from  the  newspapers 
which  helped  nurse  my  little  soul.  They  also  encouraged  me 
in  my  transcendental  tastes  for  the  beautiful.  But  hard  work 
and  the  res  angusttz  domi  left  but  a  poor  soil  for  such  a  harvest. 
Yet  it  was  hard  to  tear  the  tired  body  from  the  handsome  moon 
light  or  the  evening  star.  Mornings,  from  before  daylight  to 
sunrise,  when  forced  to  be  abroad,  gave  an  acquaintance  with 
the  beauty  of  Nature  at  that  hour,  which  was  worth  more  to  me 
than  all  my  night-labors  brought  to  my  father.  It  was  poetry 
to  me,  even  if  only  a  dull  horse  or  heavy  oxen  were  my  only 
companions.  The  pictures  of  old  times  live  now  in  my  memory, 


SPECIMENS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  331 

a  never-failing  delight  in  my  hours  when  I  am  too  tired  to  do 
any  kind  of  work  or  to  sleep.  This  hanging-garden  is  always 
over  me ;  and  I  rejoice  therein  as  no  Nebuchadnezzar,  I  fear, 
ever  did. 

I  love  children  and  hens ;  all  sorts  of  men ;  and  have  the 
oddest  set  of  intimates  you  will  find  any  scholarly  man  to  be 
acquainted  with.  But  I  am  much  less  of  a  practical  man  than 
men  think.  All  my  ideals  of  life  are  of  philosophical  and 
literary  activity,  with  a  few  friends  about  me,  Nature  and 
children.  Good-by ! 

Please  send  me  the  parcel  I  sent  you,  —  the  article  from 
Chapman.  Send  by  Adams's  Express. 

Can  this  chapter  be  closed  more  fittingly  than  with  one 
of  his  religious  sonnets,  addressed  to  Jesus,  as  the  model 
of  his  imitation  ?  The  printed  letters  conspire  with  the 
devoted  life  to  show  how  faithful  was  the  attempt  at  imi 
tation.  If  the  success  of  it  was  incomplete,  the  effort  was 
never  relaxed,  nor  was  the  idea  ever  lowered. 

"  O  Brother,  who  for  us  didst  meekly  wear 
The  crown  of  thorns  about  thy  radiant  brow  ! 
What  gospel  from  the  Father  didst  thou  bear 
Our  hearts  to  cheer,  making  us  happy  now  ?  " 
"  'Tis  this  alone,"  the  immortal  Saviour  cries  : 
"  To  fill  thy  heart  with  ever-active  love,  — 
Love  for  the  wicked  as  in  sin  he  lies, 
Love  for  thy  brother  here,  thy  God  above. 
Fear  nothing  ill ;  'twill  vanish  in  its  day : 
Live  for  the  good,  taking  the  ill  thou  must ; 
Toil  with  thy  might ;  v/ith  manly  labor  pray  ; 
Living  and  loving,  learn  thy  God  to  trust, 

And  he  will  shed  upon  thy  soul  the  blessings  of  the  just." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   PREACHER.      . 

THEODORE  PARKER'S  fame  as  a  preacher  is  associated 
with  the  Boston  Music  Hall  \  for  there  his  greatest  efforts 
were  made,  and  there  the  crowds  listened  to  his  speech. 
The  hall  is  situated  behind  Winter  Street,  and  has  a 
double  approach,  —  one  from  Winter  Street,  and  one  from 
Tremont  through  Bumstead  Place.  Its  position  insures 
for  it  a  complete  seclusion  and  utter  silence  from  without. 
It  has  no  architectural  exterior  for  the  public  eye.  The  ap 
proach  to  it  is  not  imposing.  It  was  built  by  subscriptions, 
collected  under  the  direction  of  the  Harvard  Musical  As 
sociation,  at  a  cost  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  land 
and  building.  The  design  was  by  an  English  architect,  Mr. 
Snell,  practising  his  profession  in  Boston.  Before  com 
pleting  his  drawings,  which  were  submitted  to  the  first 
authorities  in  London,  he  visited  the  chief  public  halls  in 
England,  with  a  view  to  avail  himself  of  the  best  expe 
rience  in  acoustic  elements.  The  result  was  an  auditorium 
admirably  adapted  to  purposes  of  music,  vocal  or  instru 
mental,  and  almost  equally  well  of  speaking;  pleasantly 
lighted  in  the  day-time  by  semicircular  windows  above  the 
cornice,  fifty  feet  from  the  floor,  and  at  night  by  a  fringe 
of  gas-burners  running  along  the  cornice  beneath  the 
windows,  round  three  sides  of  the  room.  The  ventilation 
is  sufficient,  and  facility  for  egress  abundant.  Two  light 
galleries  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  long  walls.  The 
332 


THE  PREACHER.  333 

wide  platform  connected  with  retiring  rooms  in  the 
rear,  and  having  behind  it  a  recess  for  the  organ,  occupied 
one  end :  an  ornamental  screen  of  iron  concealed  the  in 
strument.  The  speaker's  stand  was  an  ordinary  movable 
desk.  At  musical  festivals,  or  on  grand-concert  occasions, 
seats  were  piled  up  in  ranks,  from  the  centre  of  the  plat 
form  backward  and  sideward,  sufficient  to  accommodate 
some  five  hundred  persons,  in  addition  to  the  twenty-seven 
hundred  who  were  supplied  with  seats  elsewhere,  above  and 
below :  in  an  exigency,  musical  or  oratorical,  three  thousand 
and  more  have  found  accommodation  in  the  room  itself. 
The  dimensions,  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  length  by 
seventy-eight  in  width  and  sixty-five  in  height,  are  accord 
ing  to  most  approved  proportions,  and  satisfy  the  critical 
eye,  as  does  also  the  simple  elegance  of  the  decoration. 

Mr.  Parker's  society  removed  from  the  Melodeon  to 
their  new  place  of  worship  on  Nov.  21,  1852,  with  not 
a  few  regrets  on  the  part  of  the  early  friends,  who  felt 
that  the  family  feeling  they  had  enjoyed  would  be  dissi 
pated  or  choked  by  the  multitude  in  the  vast  space,  and 
that  intimate  relations  with  the  pastor  and  with  one 
another  would  be  no  longer  possible.  On  the  2d  of 
March,  1856,  Mr.  Parker  welcomed  his  "new  colleague" 
of  "majestic  brow,"  and  "eyes  turned  inward  and  up 
ward," —  the  bronze  Beethoven,  presented  to  the  Associa 
tion  by  Mr.  Charles  C.  Perkins.  When  the  great  organ 
was  set  up,  in  1863,  the  preacher  could  not  give  it  wel 
come  :  he  was  silent  in  his  Italian  grave. 

In  this  spacious  temple,  dedicated  to  art,  Theodore 
Parker  made  his  power  felt.  He  grew  to  the  place.  The 
central  position  commanded  a  broad  view.  Standing  here, 
he  could  be  seen  on  all  sides.  The  multitudinous  doorways 
let  in  the  world  :  it  was  the  world  he  wanted.  The  assem 
bly  was,  on  the  whole,  the  most  remarkable  that  ever 
gathered  statedly  within  four  walls  in  America  ;  up  to  that 
time  much  the  largest,  if  we  except  Whitefield's,  which 


334 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


was  composed  of  very  different  people,  drawn  by  a  very 
different  attraction.  Whitefield's  audiences  consisted  of 
unintellectual  people,  sympathetic  and  passionate;  Par 
ker's,  of  people  unlettered  and  uncultivated  in  the  main, 
but  thoughtful  and  questioning.  Whitefield  was  an  ora- 
tcr  and  a  revivalist,  who  played  with  consummate  art  on 
the  emotions  of  an  excited  crowd :  Parker  was  a  scholar 
and  a  teacher,  who  addressed  the  individual  understand 
ing  and  the  private  conscience.  He  had  no  acces 
sories  of  rite,  symbol,  ceremony,  doctrinal  or  ecclesiastical 
mystery.  He  read  the  old  Bible,  but  with  great  free 
dom  ;  and  he  read  other  writings  beside.  Hymns  were 
sung,  but  not  from  collections  in  general  use  with  Chris 
tians.  The  prayers  were  expressions  of  devout  feeling, 
usually  of  gratitude  and  longing,  on  a  sober  level,  personal 
and  tender,  but  without  humiliation,  superstition,  or  the 
least  recognition  of  dogma  at  beginning  or  end.  The 
sermons  were  grave,  solid ;  seldom  less  than  an  hour  in 
length,  often  more;  and  were  crammed  with  thought. 
The  preacher  took  the  intelligence  of  his  audience  for 
granted,  and  often  tasked  it  severely.  To  listen  to  him 
regularly  was,  indeed,  a  liberal  education,  not  in  theology, 
or  even  in  religion,  alone,  but  in  politics,  history,  litera 
ture,  science,  art,  every  thing  that  interested  rational 
minds. 

He  had  no  rhetorical  gifts.  His  eyes  were  wonderfully 
clear  and  searching ;  but  their  effect  was  marred  by  the 
interposition  of  glasses;  and  his  countenance  otherwise 
was  not  expressive.  Neither  was  his  figure  imposing,  nor 
his  gesture  fine,  nor  his  action  graceful.  He  moved  but 
little  as  he  spoke :  his  hand  only  occasionally  rose  and 
fell  on  the  manuscript  before  him,  as  if  to  emphasize  a 
passage  to  himself ;  but  his  person  was  motionless,  and 
his  arm  still.  The  discourse  was  read,  save  on  rare  occa 
sions  or  in  interpolated  paragraphs,  in  a  voice  unmusical, 
and  unsympathetic  in  its  ordinary  tones,  with  little  train- 


THE  PREACHER.  335 

ing  or  natural  modulation.  His  audiences  were  held  by 
the  spell  of  earnest  thought  alone,  uttered  in  language  so 
simple,  that  a  plain  man  hearing  him  remarked  on  leaving 
church,  "  Is  that  Theodore  Parker  ?  You  told  me  he  was 
a  remarkable  man;  but  I  understood  every  word  he  said." 
He  was  not  like  the  doctor  of  divinity  who  made  a  point 
of  having  in  every  sermon  one  sentence  that  no  one  in  the 
congregation  could  comprehend.  His  rule  was,  to  have  no 
sentence  that  was  above  the  comprehension  of  the  sim 
plest  intelligence.  The  style  was  never  dry ;  the  words 
were  sinewy,  the  sentences  short  and  pithy ;  the  language 
was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  the  fields,  and  rich  with  the 
juices  of  the  ground.  Passages  of  exquisite  beauty 
bloomed  on  almost  every  page.  Illustrations  pertinent 
and  racy  abounded  ;  but  there  was  no  ambitious  flight  of 
rhetoric,  and  never  an  attempt  to  carry  the  heart  in  oppo 
sition  to  the  judgment. 

The  audiences  were  singularly  untractable.  They  did 
not  assemble  in  the  usual  churchly  fashion,  from  habit  or 
association,  in  the  mood  of  reverence,  or  of  regard  for  the 
opinion  of  the  world.  They  came  in  such  garments  as 
they  had ;  sat  in  such  seats  as  were  vacant ;  went  out  if 
they  were  tired.  Some  brought  newspapers  in  their  pock 
ets,  which  they  read  in  the  few  minutes  that  preceded  the 
preacher's  entrance.  Some  betrayed  by  their  manner  that 
they  regarded  the  prayer  as  an  impertinence;  and  others 
that  they  came  for  the  sermon,  not  for  the  scripture  or 
the  hymn.  The  sittings  were  free  :  the  expenses — which 
were  not  heavy,  for  Mr.  Parker  was  ever  greedy  of  a  small 
salary  —  were  met  by  voluntary  contributions,  mostly 
given  by  a  few  devoted  friends  and  steadfast  parish 
ioners,  who  constituted  the  minister's  body-guard,  and 
were  relied  on  for  the  active  organized  work  of  the 
society.  Hence  the  multitude  who  heard  him  from  Sun 
day  to  Sunday  felt  none  of  that  peculiar  interest,  half 
mercantile,  half  personal,  which  goes  with  the  paying  of 


336  THEODORE  PARKER. 

money.     No  tie  held  them  but  that  of  intellectual  and 
moral  satisfaction. 

If  the  preacher's  theological  opinions,  his  "  heresies," 
attracted  many,  they  also  repelled  many.  They  were  so 
pronounced  as  to  offend  conservatives  even  of  the  lib 
eral  class,  yet  so  sober  and  reasonable  as  to  fail  often 
of  satisfying  radicals  of  an  extreme  school.  Not  a  few 
bore  them  patiently,  at  first,  for  the  sake  of  the  hu 
manity  which  they  found  in  Music  Hall,  and  could  not 
find  elsewhere.  To  his  heresy  Parker  owed  his  "  chance 
to  be  heard  in  Boston,"  but  not  the  hearing  he  had 
there.  Had  he  been  moderately  "  orthodox,"  his  follow 
ing  would  probably  have  been  larger  and  more  influential. 
His  influence  was  due  to  his  intrinsic  power  alone.  He  is 
commonly  thought  of  as  exclusively  intellectual.  Never  was 
a  greater  mistake.  His  wealth  of  sympathetic  emotion 
was  as  remarkable  as  his  wealth  of  mind.  A  good  man 
who  sat  very  near  him  on  the  platform,  and,  while  living 
in  Boston,  heard  every  sermon  he  preached  there,  says, 
"  More  than  half  the  time,  in  his  prayer,  I  could  see  the 
tears  run  down  his  face  before  he  was  done.  Two  years, 
on  attempting  to  read  on  Easter  Sunday  the  story  of 
the  trial  and  crucifixion  of  Jesus,  he  could  not  get 
through,  but,  overcome  by  his  emotions,  had  to  sit  down, 
and  give  way  to  his  tears."  The  prayers  of  Sunday, 
which  usually  seem  a  difficulty  hard  to  get  over  by  min 
ister  and  people  alike,  were  with  him  a  means  of  drawing 
far-off  hearts  to  him,  and  putting  them  in  tune  for  the 
sermon.  "  Is  it  not  sometimes  a  burden  to  the  preacher 
to  go  through  the  devotional  exercises  of  the  Sunday  ? " 
asked  one  of  his  friends.  "  Never  to  me,"  was  the  reply. 
"  The  natural  attitude  of  my  mind  has  always  been  pray 
erful.  A  snatch  of  such  feeling  passes  through  me  as  I 
walk  in  the  streets,  or  engage  in  any  work.  I  sing  prayers 
when  I  loiter  in  the  woods,  or  travel  the  quiet  road  :  these 
founts  of  communion,  which  lie  so  deep,  seem  always 


THE  PREACHER.  337 

bubbling  to  the  surface ;  and  the  utterance  of  a  prayer  is, 
at  any  time,  as  simple  to  me  as  breathing." 

He  wrote  in  a  sermon,  "  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  heard 
men  pray  great  prayers  and  deep  ones.  To  me  it  seemed 
as  if  an  angel  sang  them  out  of  the  sky,  and  this  man 
caught  the  sound,  and  copied  it  easily  on  his  own  string. 
I  wondered  all  men  prayed  not  so ;  that  all  could  not. 
Before  I  was  a  man,  I  learned  that  such  inspirings  come 
not  thus,  but  of  toil  and  pain,  trial  and  sorrow,  —  here 
spread  over  many  days,  there  condensed  into  a  few ;  that 
it  was  not  by  gathering  flowers  in  a  meadow  of  June  they 
got  their  treasures,  but  by  diving  deep  into  a  stormy  water 
that  they  brought  up  with  pain  the  pearl  of  the  twisted 
shell."  So  fervent  was  his  utterance,  so  natural  and  hu 
man  his  cry,  that  the  flowers  on  the  table  before  him 
colored  his  devout  speech,  and  the  voices  of  animals  blent 
easily  with  his  own.  One  Sunday,  a  terrier-dog,  that  had 
strayed  into  the  hall,  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  prayer, 
lifted  up  a  piercing  bark.  "  We  thank  Thee,  O  Father  of 
all,  who  hast  made  even  the  humblest  dumb  creature  to 
praise  thee  after  its  own  way ! "  responded  the  supplicat 
ing  lips. 

He  was  preaching  a  discourse,  one  winter's  day,  on 
"  Obstacles."  Describing  the  man  to  whom  obstacles  are 
helps,  he  said,  "  Before  such  a  man  all  obstacles  will "  — 
at  this  instant  a  mass  of  frozen  snow  that  had  collected 
on  the  roof  came  down  with  a  noise  like  thunder,  that 
shook  the  building,  and  startled  the  audience  with  a  mo 
mentary  feeling  of  dismay  —  "slide  away  like  the  ice  from 
the  slated  roof,"  said  the  preacher's  re-assuring  voice. 

This  emotion  gave  a  positive  flavor  to  even  an  unprom 
ising  discourse.  It  disarmed  many  an  invective  of  its 
power  to  wound.  In  a  letter  to  an  intimate  friend,  writ 
ten  in  1845,  he  said,  "  I  have  sometimes  felt  disappointed 
at  the  expression  in  some  faces  as  I  have  spoken ;  for  it 
showed  that  they  did  not  always  appreciate  what  I  said, 
29 


338  THEODORE  PARKER. 

just  as  I  did.  I  will  endeavor  to  avoid  leading  astray 
such  as  are  now  ready  to  start  in  a  false  direction.  It  is 
by  no  means  pleasant  to  me  to  write  or  preach  negation. 
I  would  rather  give  light,  however  thin,  than  lightning, 
however  sharp.  It  is  painful  to  me  to  thunder  ;  but  it  is 
sometimes  needful.  I  must  now  and  then  say,  l  Woe  unto 
you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites  ! '  but  the  burden  of 
my  song  will  be,  '  He  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  Father,'  &c." 

He  loved  to  preach :  subjects  crowded  on  him  faster 
than  he  could  deal  with  them.  The  Sundays  were  too 
few  rather  than  too  many.  Travelling  in  Europe,  three 
thousand  miles  from  his  desk,  he  delighted  in  planning 
sermons  that  he  could  not  preach.  Vacations  were  short 
with  him :  he  would  have  been  glad  had  they  been 
shorter.  It  was  his  custom  to  preach  a  fresh  sermon 
every  Sunday,  especially  on  rainy  days ;  for  the  people 
who  came  out  in  storms,  he  said,  have  a  right  to  the  best. 
When  illness,  or  pre-occupation,  or  unexpected  absence 
from  home,  prevented  his  preparing  a  new  discourse, 
instead  of  disguising  the  old  manuscript,  he  displayed  it, 
herein  violating  another  clerical  tradition.  But  he  could 
not  afford  to  preach  many  old  sermons.  It  cost  him  more 
to  keep  the  new  ones  back  than  to  write  them. 

Parker  no  more  made  his  sermons  than  his  prayers  : 
both  made  themselves :  they  came  in  troops,  in  clusters, 
in  long  files,  that  stretched  over  months,  and  even  years. 
He  is  known  to  have  laid  out  subjects  for  four  years  in 
advance,  and  to  have  adhered  to  his  plan.  Groups  of 
sermon  topics  appear  with  curious  frequency  in  the  jour 
nal.  There  was  no  conventional  limitation  of  theme.  They 
were  on  all  vital  concerns,  from  those  of  the  soul  to  those 
of  the  kitchen, — religion  in  all  aspects,  personal  and  pub 
lic  ;  the  greater  and  lesser  affairs  of  the  community; 
social  reform  in  all  its  branches ;  the  immediate  questions 
of  the  day,  philosophical,  theological,  ethical,  commer 
cial  :  and  each  theme  was  treated  according  to  its  own 


THE  PREACHER.  339 

laws  and  conditions ;  no  pulpit  rule  being  applied  to  their 
discussion,  no  professional  bar  being  erected  for  their 
judgment.  When  the  topic  demanded  extensive  research, 
the  materials  were  collected  long,  sometimes  a  year  or 
two,  in  advance.  Careful  studies  were  made,  notes  were 
kept,  and  generalizations  from  time  to  time  applied  to  the 
facts  amassed.  His  discourses  on  national  matters  or  on 
themes  of  deep  and  wide  import,  such  as  "  The  Merchant," 
"The  Perishing  Classes,"  "The  Dangerous  Classes," 
"  Great  Cities,"  "  The  Dangers  and  Duties  of  Woman," 
"Intemperance,"  "Crime,"  cost  vast  labor  in  compiling 
statistics,  as  well  as  in  reflection.  They  are  treatises  as 
well  as  sermons,  at  once  profound  and  fascinating.  His 
political  discourses,  dealing  with  each  crisis  as  it  occurred, 
are  a  combination  of  history,  philosophy,  and  prophecy, 
that  deserves  a  place  in  permanent  literature  ;  yet  they 
were  prepared  for  exigencies  that  soon  must  pass  away. 
There  was  conscientious  work  enough  in  them  for  a 
volume.  His  biographical  discourses  were  models  of 
thoroughness  and  strength.  While  preparing  his  pulpit 
oration  on  John  Quincy  Adams,  he  reviewed  the  states 
man's  whole  career  ;  read  every  speech  ;  analyzed  every 
argument ;  scrutinized  every  act ;  went  behind  every  piece 
of  public  policy  ;  and  laid  out  the  history  so  simply, 
that  the  least-instructed  intelligence  could  understand  it. 
Before  writing  the  greatest  discourse  of  them  all,  on 
Daniel  Webster  dead,  he  did  more  than  this  :  he  gleaned 
from  all  credible  sources  information  in  regard  to  Mr. 
Webster's  private  life  and  character ;  probed  the  secrets 
of  his  ancestry ;  read  the  principal  works  of  distinguished 
orators,  jurists,  and  statesmen  in  England ;  studied  again 
the  orations  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  in  order  to  set 
tle  precisely  in  his  mind  the  rank  of  the  great  American 
as  lawyer,  statesman,  orator,  and  man. 

That  wonderful  oration  —  eulogy,  litany,  arraignment, 
verdict  —  was  written  at  a  heat.     The  preparation  for  it 


340 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


covered  weeks,  nay,  occupied  years ;  for  Webster  had  been 
one  of  Parker's  idols,  exerting  on  him  something  like  fas 
cination.  A  few  hours  of  solitary  meditation  in  the 
country,  after  the  statesman's  death,  fused  the  mass  of 
material  so  completely,  that  it  ran  like  molten  metal  into 
the  literary  mould.  The  sentences  poured  hot  from  the 
speaker's  heart.  The  effect  in  the  delivery  was  prodigious. 
It  was  not  uncommon  for  the  audience,  towards  the  close 
of  Mr.  Parker's  impassioned  discourses,  to  lean  forward 
in  rapt  attention,  showing,  as  he  said  once,  the  angels  or 
the  demons  in  their  faces.  They  did  so  now,  listening 
with  breathless  intensity ;  and  when  he  spoke  of  his 
mourning  for  Webster,  and  cried  in  a  choking  voice,  "  O 
Webster,  Webster  !  my  king,  my  king !  would  I  had  died 
for  thee  !  "  every  eye  was  wet  with  tears. 

This  utter  fidelity  to  his  calling  made  Theodore  Parker 
the  great  preacher  that  he  was  ;  probably,  all  things  con 
sidered,  the  greatest  of  his  generation.  He  was  greater 
than  Newman  Hall,  who  entertains  adult  thousands  with 
Sunday  -  school  addresses ;  than  Spurgeon,  whom  five 
or  six  thousand  men  and  women  flock  to  hear,  but  who 
lacks  learning,  knowledge  of  men  and  things,  breadth  and 
poetic  fervor  of  mind,  culture  of  intellect,  and  delicacy 
of  perception,  —  an  earnest,  zealous,  toilsome  man,  power 
ful  through  his  sectarian  narrowness,  not,  as  Parker  was, 
through  his  human  sympathy.  He  was  greater  beyond 
measure  than  Maurice,  Robertson,  Stopford  Brooke,  or  any 
of  the  new  Churchmen  ;  the  delight  of  those  who  want  to 
be  out  of  the  Church,  and  yet  feel  in  it.  He  was  greater 
than  Channing  in  range  of  thought,  in  learning,  in  breadth 
of  human  sympathy,  in  vitality  of  interest  in  common 
affairs,  in  wealth  of.  imagination,  and  in  the  racy  flavor  of 
his  spoken  or  written  speech.  Channing  had  an  equal 
moral  earnestness ;  an  equal  depth  of  spiritual  sentiment ; 
a  superior  gift  of  look,  voice,  expression,  manner ;  perhaps 
a  more  finely-endowed  speculative  apprehension ;  a  subtle: 


THE  PREACHER.  341 

insight :  but,  as  a  preacher,  he  addressed  a  smaller  class 
of  his  fellow-men.  His  was  an  aristocratic,  Parker's  a 
democratic  mind.  Channing  was  ethereal,  even  when 
treading  most  manfully  the  earth  ;  and  seraphic,  even 
when  urging  the  claims  of  negroes :  Parker,  when  soar 
ing  highest,  kept  both  feet  planted  on  the  soil ;  and,  when 
unfolding  the  most  ideal  principles,  remembered  that  his 
brother  held  him  by  the  hand  for  guidance.  Channing 
always  talked  prose,  even  while  dilating  on  transcendental 
themes :  Parker,  even  when  discussing  affairs  of  the 
street,  would  break  out  into  the  language  of  poetry. 
Channing  could  sympathize  with  great  popular  ideas  and 
movements,  but  was  too  fastidious  to  be  ever  in  close  con 
tact  with  the  people  :  Parker  was  a  man  of  the  people 
through  and  through ;  one  of  the  people,  as  much  at  home 
with  the  plainest  as  with  the  most  cultured,  more  heartily 
at  home  with  the  simple  than  with  the  polished :  hence 
his  word  ran  swiftly  in  rough  paths,  while  Dr.  Channing's 
trod  daintily  in  high  places. 

Few  persons,  if  asked  to  name  the  greatest  living 
preacher  in  America,  would  hesitate  to  mention  the  pastor 
of  Plymouth  Church  in  Brooklyn.  Mr.  Beecher  is  undoubt 
edly  a  more  popular  speaker  than  Mr.  Parker  was  :  he  is 
more  eagerly  sought  after,  more  widely  known  among  the 
"common  people,"  more  potential  through  his  word.  Yet 
Beecher  owes  much  of  his  popularity  to  qualities  that  gave 
Parker  his  fame,  —  to  his  humanity,  his  big-heartedness, 
his  feeling  for  nature,  his  simplicity,  his  independence,  his 
humor.  But  the  obstacles  he  has  to  contend  with  are  noth 
ing  as  compared  with  those  that  stood  in  Parker's  way :  in 
fact,  he  has  no  difficulties  at  all.  He  is  not  a  reformer,  an 
innovator,  a  teacher  of  new  or  unwelcome  truths,  a  cham 
pion  of  unwelcome  principles.  The  popular  drift  befriends 
him.  His  equivocal  position  as  minister  of  an  Orthodox 
Congregational  society  makes  him  attractive  to  both  con 
servatives  and  liberals.  Not  being  radical  enough  to  shock 
29* 


342  THEODORE  PARKER. 

the  former,  nor  conservative  enough  to  displease  the  latter, 
he  retains  people  of  all  descriptions,  much  as  the  English 
broad  Churchman  gathers  Episcopalians  and  Unitarians 
alike  into  his  fold.  Such  persons  as  Theodore  Parker 
assembled — persons  whom  he  culled  from  the  unchurched, 
the  unbelieving,  the  protesting  —  are  a  minority  in  Mr. 
Beecher's  congregation.  Such  a  ministry  is  not  for  them  : 
they  want  more  knowledge,  more  courage,  more  devotion 
to  reform,  more  boldness  of  speculation,  more  incisive- 
ness  of  speech,  more  living  vigor  of  address.  Parker, 
while  fully  Beecher's  equal  in  humor,  wit,  vivacity,  play 
fulness,  was  greatly  his  superior  in  wealth  of  mental  re 
source,  in  depth  of  feeling,  in  force  of  emotion  j  and  in 
moral  earnestness  he  was  so  vastly  before  him,  that  the 
two  men  cannot  be  spoken  of  in  the  same  breath.  Beech- 
er  is  the  Spurgeon  of  America :  Parker  was  its  Martin 
Luther.  With  a  wealthy  congregation  like  that  of  Plym 
outh  Church,  what  would  not  Parker  have  done  for  man 
kind  !  Beecher  entertains  the  country  :  Parker  instructed 
and  moulded  it.  The  former  is  an  object  of  interest  and 
admiration  :  the  latter  was  an  object  of  love  and  fear. 
Where  the  former  causes  a  titillation  on  the  surface  of  the 
community,  the  latter  ploughed  a  deep  furrow  in  its  soil. 

Judge  the  men  by  their  printed  sermons.  The  sermons 
of  each  are  a  literature.  Who  that  can  read  any  other 
books  can  read  Spurgeon's  volumes  ?  The  reading-power 
of  the  cultivated  man  breaks  down  in  their  dreadful 
slough.  Beecher's  are  dull  when  taken  in  quantity,  often 
commonplace,  conventional,  and  verbose,  rarely  instruc 
tive  or  nobly  stimulating.  It  is  easy  to  believe  that  they 
were  made  on  Sunday  morning,  after  breakfast.  Parker 
printed  a  great  deal  too  much  :  not  a  few  of  his  pro 
ductions  are  happy  in  being  out  of  print.  But  take  up 
any  of  his  volumes  containing  the  sermons  he  thought 
worthy  of  permanent  preservation,  —  the  volume  of  "  Ten 
Sermons  "  on  religion  ;  the  "  Theism  and  Atheism,"  which 


THE  PREACHER.  343 

is  made  up  of  pulpit  addresses ;  read  the  pamphlet  ser 
mons  on  "  Immortal  Life,"  on  "  The  Perils  of  Adversity 
and  Prosperity,"  "What  Religion  will  do  for  a  Man," 
"Lesson  for  a  Midsummer  Day,"  "The  Function  and 
Place  of  Conscience,"  the  "  Sermon  of  Poverty,"  "  Of 
War,"  "  Of  Merchants,"  «  The  Chief  Sins  of  the  People," 
"  The  Power  of  a  False  Idea,"  —  and  you  have  many  a  long 
hour  full  of  edification,  instruction,  and  delight.  They 
are  sermons,  always  sermons  ;  not  essays  or  disquisitions. 
Every  book  began  as  a  sermon.  The  parenetical  character 
runs  through  every  thing  the  man  wrote,  as  the  moral 
element  ran  through  the  man.  As  literary  productions, 
they  are  open  to  criticism  as  being  diffuse,  clumsy  with 
repetitions,  overloaded  with  illustrations  ;  but  as  sermons 
intended  to  reach  the  conscience  as  well  as  the  under 
standing  of  miscellaneous  and  heedless  auditors,  who 
must  have  a  thought  expressed  in  several  forms,  and 
reiterated  more  than  once,  in  order  to  catch  or  retain  it, 
they  are  almost  perfect,  and  are  destined  to  do  a  most 
important  work  in  educating  and  inspiring  thousands 
whom  the  preacher's  voice  never  reached  ;  who,  perhaps, 
were  not  born  when  he  fell  asleep.  More  may  be  learned 
from  his  political  speeches  and  addresses  than  from 
many  volumes  of  contemporaneous  history.  His  specula 
tive  discourses  throw  light  on  abstruse  problems  of  phi 
losophy  :  his  ordinary  sermons  are  rich  in  practical  wisdom 
for  daily  life,  and  will  be  read  when  hundreds  of  sermons 
now  popular  are  forgotten,  and  even  when  the  literature 
of  the  pulpit  has  fallen  into  the  neglect  it  for  the  most 
part  deserves. 

The  habitual  attendants  on  Theodore  Parker's  Sunday 
teaching  will  probably  assent  to  all  that  has  been  said. 
His  intimate  friends  and  admirers  will  think  it  hardly  less 
than  the  literal  truth.  There  was  much  fault-finding,  of 
course,  on  the  part  of  people  whose  opinions  were  at 
tacked,  or  whose  prejudices  were  wounded.  There  was 


344  THEODORE  PARKER. 

occasional  complaint  from  parents  of  worldly  mind  that 
the  Music-Hall  preaching  was  not  wholesome  to  young 
men.  It  was  seldom  that  fair  minds  objected  to  the 
devotional  character  of  the  services,  though  occasionally 
one  did.  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  for  instance,  told  a  friend  of 
Mr.  Parker  that  he  did  not  oftener  go  to  hear  him  because 
he  did  not  satisfy  his  religious  nature  :  he  preferred  the 
Swedenborgian  chapel.  The  remark  wounded  Parker 
deeply.  "  This  is,  in  reality,"  he  writes  in  his  private  jour 
nal,  "  the  most  painful  criticism  I  ever  heard  made  on  my 
ministry.  I  never  before  heard  of  any  one  as  objecting 
to  my  preaching,  that  it  was  not  religious  enough.  Several 
have  gone  away  for  various  reasons,  —  these  because  I 
preached  against  war ;  those  because  I  preached  against 
slavery ;  yet  others  because  I  preached  against  intemper 
ance  and  the  making  drunkards  of  men  ;  others,  again, 
because  I  spoke  against  the  misdeeds  of  the  political  par 
ties.  Some  have  left  me  because  I  did  not  believe  the 
popular  theology,  and  so  hurt  their  feelings  (all  that  is 
natural)  ;  several  more  because  the  place  was  not  respec 
table,  and  the  audience  was  composed  chiefly  of  *  grocers 
and  mechanics : '  but  this  is  the  first  that  I  know  of  who 
has  gone  elsewhere  because  the  preaching  was  not  reli 
gious  enough.  But  who  knows  how  many  have  been 
grieved  away  by  the  same  thing  ?  '  God  help  me  to  know 
myself,  that  I  may  see  how  frail  I  am  ! '  Dr.  Howe  said 
that  other  men  went  down  into  the  deep  places  of  his 
heart  more  than  I,  and  gave  him  a  glow  of  religion  which 
I  failed  to  produce.  Prof.  Porter  accused  me  of  senti- 
mentalism  in  religion.  I  did  not  think  that  was  true  of  a 
man  that  wore  a  blue  frock,  and  held  the  plough,  and 
mowed  hay,  and  delivered  temperance  lectures,  and 
stormed  round  the  land,  preaching  antislavery,  and  mak 
ing  such  a  tumult  as  I  once  made  ;  but  it  was  nearer  my 
own  judgment  of  myself  than  this  of  Dr.  Howe. 

"  I  once  loved  pleasure ;  and  religion  kept  me  in.     I 


THE  PREACHER.  345 

loved  money,  even  now  have  a  passion  for  acquisition, 
and  once  resolved  to  accumulate  a  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  ;  but  religion  forbade  me  to  be  rich  while  the  poor 
needed  food  and  the  ignorant  to  go  to  college.  I  love 
ease;  but  I  don't  take  it.  Religion  keeps  me  at  this 
desk,  and  sends  me  to  a  thousand  things,  which,  even  now, 
I  like  not  to  do.  I  love  fame,  and  for  religion  I  took  a 
path  that  I  knew  would  lead  me  to  infamy  all  my  life  ; 
and,  if  any  thing  else  ever  comes  of  it,  it  will  be  when  I 
am  wholly  oblivious  to  all  such  things.  I  love  the  society 
of  cultivated  people,  a  good  name,  respectability,  and  all 
that ;  and  religious  conviction  has  deprived  me  of  it  all, 
made  me  an  outcast  and  the  companion  of  outcasts,  and 
given  me  a  name  more  hated  than  any  in  all  New  Eng 
land.  I  see  men  stare  at  me  in  the  street,  and  point,  and 
say,  '  That  is  Theodore  Parker,'  and  look  at  me  as  if  I 
were  a  murderer.  Old  friends,  even  parishioners,  will  not 
bow  to  me  in  the  street.  I  am  cast  out  of  all  respectable 
society.  I  knew  all  this  would  come.  It  has  come  from 
my  religion ;  and  I  would  not  forego  that  religion  for  all 
this  world  can  give.  I  have  borne  sorrows  that  bow  men 
together  till  they  can  in  no  wise  lift  up  themselves.  But 
my  comfort  has  been  the  joy  of  religion :  my  delight  is  the 
infinite  God  ;  and  that  has  sustained  me. 

"  Yet  I  am  glad  of  the  criticism ;  and,  true  or  not,  I 
will  profit  by  it." 

Such  an  avowal  as  this  in  his  private  confessional  indi 
cates  a  deep  and  genuine  feeling.  Neither  the  sadness 
nor  the  complaint  was  affected.  It  was  true  that  men 
looked  at  him  askance,  called  him  bitter  names,  —  "  liar," 
"  scoundrel,"  "  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,"  —  names  worse 
than  "infidel,"  —  and  that  as  early  as  1845.  The  epithets 
did  not  become  milder,  the  tone  gentler,  or  the  gesture 
feebler,  as  years  went  on,  and  the  conflict  deepened 
between  the  reformer  and  the  "  world."  The  bold 
preacher  who  took  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  at  its  word, 


346  THEODORE  PARKER. 

revered  the  Commandments,  loved  the  Beatitudes,  wor 
shipped  the  eternal  law,  applied  it  strictly  to  every  private 
vice  and  every  social  evil ;  who,  knowing  no  distinction 
of  persons,  publicly  summoned  the  most  eminent  men  of 
Boston,  Massachusetts,  New  England,  the  nation,  before 
the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  and  openly  arraigned  them 
for  private  infidelities  and  public  misdeeds ;  the  prophet 
who  pointed  his  warning  finger  at  Winthrop,  Everett, 
Webster,  Choate,  great  manufacturers  like  Lawrence, 
great  capitalists  like  Thayer, — could  not  escape  the  op 
probrium  that  is  always  visited  on  the  censor  of  morals. 
There  was  no  stake  for  him,  no  scourge,  no  jail.  It 
was  not  necessary  for  him  to  take  refuge  in  any  Wartburg 
to  elude  the  ecclesiastical  or  other  hunters  for  his  blood. 
That  old-fashioned  persecution,  which  put  men  on  their 
mettle,  roused  their  passions,  braced  them  with  the  proud 
sense  of  martyrdom,  and  steeled  them  against  sharp 
but  momentary  physical  pain,  would  have  been  easier  for 
one  like  Parker  to  bear  than  the  icy  neglect,  the  cold 
shoulder,  the  averted  eye,  the  sneer  that  could  not  be 
warded  off,  the  shadow  of  hate  that  could  not  be  struck 
with  a  weapon,  the  venomous  back-biting  that  no  stubborn 
ness  of  will  could  beat  back.  To  "battle  against  flesh  and 
blood  "  is  comparatively  easy  ;  for  flesh  is  hard  with  mus 
cle,  and  blood  hot  with  flame  :  but  to  "  battle  against  the 
wicked  spirits  that  dwell  in  the  air "  makes  the  bravest 
faint. 

From  the  Journal. 

FEB.  16,  1851. 

This  is  the  sixth  anniversary  of  my  coming  to  the  Melodeon. 
I  little  knew  what  I  had  to  encounter,  nor  who  would  come  to 
help  me  do  the  work.  I  have  found  Boston  worse  by  far  than 
I  expected.  I  have  been  disappointed  in  its  intellectual  power, 
in  the  intellect  of  its  controlling  men,  and  still  more  in  their 
moral  character.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  found  a  power 
of  goodness  in  quarters  where  I  did  not  look  for  it.  My  con 
fidence  in  the  people,  in  mankind,  is  strengthened.  My  con- 


THE  PREACHER.  347 

fidence  in  men  of  the  mercantile  profession  in  Boston  is  much 
weakened.  I  know  noble  exceptions.  But  Boston  is  the  me 
tropolis  of  snobs. 

THURSDAY,  March  27,  1851. 

To  me  it  seems  as  if  my  life  was  a  failure.  Let  me  look 
at  it,  — 

1.  Domestically.  —  'Tis  mainly  so :  for  I  have  no  children; 
and  what  is  a  house  without  a  little  "mite  o'  teants,"  or  "bits  o' 
blossoms  "  ? 

2.  Socially.  —  It  is  completely  a   failure.     Here   I   am  as 
much  an  outcast  from  society  as  if  I  were  a  convicted  pirate  : 
I  mean  from  all  that  calls  itself  "  decent  society,"  "respectable 
society,"  in  Boston. 

3.  Professionally.  —  I  stand  all  alone ;  not  a  minister  with 
me.     I  see  no  young  men  rising  up  to  take  ground  with  me,  or 
in  advance  of  me.     I  think,  that,  with  a  solitary  exception,  my 
professional  influence  has  not  been  felt  in  a  single  young  minis 
ter's  soul.     True,  I  have  a  noble  parish  :  that  I  am  proud  of 
with  a  pride  that  makes  me  humble. 

WEDNESDAY,  Sept.  24,  1851. 

The  parish  committee  applied  for  the  Masonic  Temple  to  hold 
our  meetings  in  for  a  few  Sundays ;  and,  after  due  deliberation, 
were  refused,  on  the  ground  that  it  would  injure  the  reputa 
tion  of  the  house.  Mr.  W.  felt  badly  about  it ;  Mr.  A.  not.  I 
only  looked  for  this  result.  There  is  no  indignity  that  I  do  not 
expect,  if  an  opportunity  offers  for  it.  All  things  have  their 
penalty. 

TUESDAY,  April  27,  1852. 

Kossuth  came  to  Boston.  I  rejoice  at  his  advent  here ;  but 
none  of  the  rich  men  appeared  in  the  streets.  Old  Josiah 
Quincy  was  the  only  distinguished  citizen  that  I  saw  in  public. 
Many  prominent  persons  closed  their  curtains,  and  one  would 
not  allow  his  familv  to  go  to  the  window. 

Nov.  20. 

In  Boston  I  have  universally  been  treated  with  studied  neg 
lect,  and  often  with  deliberate  and  premeditated  insult.  When 
I  left  the  parish  at  West  Roxbury,  I  was  treated  quite  ill,  and 


348  THEODORE  PARKER. 

with  the  design  to  wound  my  feelings.  I  know  very  well  at 
whose  instigation  it  has  all  been  done,  and  am  not  disposed  to 
blame  the  majority. 

The  letters  abound  in  similar  confessions. 

To  Rev.  Dr.  Francis. 

MARCH  12,  1852. 

...  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  complain  of  your  lot.  It  seems  to 
me  you  ought  to  be  a  happy  man,  —  material  wants  all  met,  a 
useful  and  respectable  position  in  society,  incubating  some  eggs 
which  the  Unitarian  hen  lays  from  year  to  year,  warming  them 
into  ministerial  chickenhood,  brooding  over  some  other  eggs  in 
the  college-chapel,  with  two  children,  the  respect  of  the  de 
nomination,  and  not  an  enemy  in  the  world.  Really,  my  good 
friend,  it  seems  to  me  you  ought  to  be  happy.  Think  of  me, 
hated,  shunned,  hooted  at ;  not  thought  worthy  to  be  even  a 
member  of  the  Boston  Association  of  Ministers  or  of  the 
P.  B.  K. !  Not  half  a  dozen  ministers  in  the  land  but  they  abhor 
me ;  call  me  "  infidel : "  even  you  and  Lamson  would  not  ex 
change  with  me  for  ten  years  past.  I  have  no  child,  and  the 
worst  reputation  of  any  minister  in  all  America.  Yet  I  think  I 
am  not  ill  used,  take  it  altogether.  I  am  a  happy  man.  None 
of  these  things  disturb  me.  I  have  my  own  duty  to  do,  and  joys 
to  delight  in.  Think  of  those  poor  Germans,  scholars  in 
Boston!  —  poor  companionless  exiles,  set  down  in  vulgar,  tory 
Boston,  and  shivering  with  cold,  yet  thanking  God  that  it  is  not 
an  Austrian  dungeon.  Why,  you  and  I  might  have  "glorified 
God  in  the  grass  market,"  if  we  had  lived  two  hundred  years 
ago,  or  three  thousand  miles  east  of  New  England.  Come,  let 
us  be  happy.  I,  at  least,  have  had  quite  as  good  a  time  in  the 
world  as  I  have  merited,  and  daily  bless  God  for  favors 
undeserved. 

Of  course,  a  sensitive  nature  suffers  where  an  insensible 
one  does  not  feel.  Parker's  nature  was  keenly  sensitive, 
and  made  what  others  might  have  regarded  as  slight 
affronts  malicious  insults  and  studied  outrages.  Possibly 
his  sensitiveness  now  and  then  imagined  affronts  where 


THE  PREACHER.  349 

none  were  intended.  But  he  was  not  suspicious:  the 
morbid  taint,  if  it  existed,  was  very  slight.  He  tried  never 
to  entertain  a  disposition  towards  others  he  could  not 
justify ;  and  any  one  acquainted  with  the  social  condition 
of  New  England  between  1850  and  1860  will  find  it  much 
easier  to  believe  than  to  disbelieve  that  he  had  excellent 
grounds  for  his  feeling.  Outspoken  reformers  were 
treated  with  disdain.  Not  only  men  like  Garrison,  whom 
nobody  in  "  society  "  knew,  but  men  like  Phillips,  whom 
everybody  knew,  were  put  under  the  social  ban.  Charles 
Sumner,  the  pet  of  society,  a  worshipper  at  King's 
Chapel,  was  outlawed,  cut  in  the  streets,  avoided,  dropped 
from  fashionable  visiting-lists,  on  account  of  his  anti- 
slavery  opinions.  Others  less  courageous,  or  more  tram 
melled  by  conventionalities,  shrunk  from  the  ordeal,  having 
ventured  near  enough  to  feel  the  scorch  of  the  flame  on 
their  clothes.  All  Dr.  Channing's  fastidiousness,  quiet 
ness,  strength  of  family  connection  and  of  personal  saint- 
liness,  were  needed  to  save  him  from  social  and  ministerial 
neglect.  They  did  not  save  him  from  dislike,  suspicion, 
and  ugly  comment  among  his  brethren.  Dr.  Howe,  who  had 
lived  in  Boston  for  twenty  years,  most  of  the  time  at  the 
head  of  the  Blind  Institution,  declared  that  he  never  re 
ceived  any  sign  of  recognition  from  the  city  authorities 
in  the  shape  of  an  invitation  to  any  of  their  festivities. 
Parker  added  to  the  worst  offences  of  these  noble  men 
that  of  theological  heresy.  He  was  a  Garrison,  a  Sumner, 
a  Charming,  a  Pierpont,  combined  ;  and  he  was  more 
offensive  to  the  respectability  of  Boston  than  either, 
because  he  was  an  "  infidel,"  and  an  infidel  among  Unita 
rians,  who  were  the  ruling  sect.  He  discredited  the  reli 
gion  of  the  churches. 

And  he  did  it  every  week,  on  Sunday,  —  not  by  editing 

a  paper  which  the  nobility  never  saw ;  not  by  making  a 

strong   speech    on    anniversary    occasions,    or  delivering 

a  grand  oration  on  a  Fourth  of  July ;   but  by  preaching 

30 


35° 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


great  gospel-sermons  —  one  every  seven  days  —  to  two  or 
three  thousand  people,  and  having  them  reported  in  the 
daily  papers.  He  was  an  incessant  thorn,  a  Nessus  shirt 
that  could  not  be  pulled  off,  a  dreadful  presence  that 
could  not  be  laid.  He  was  felt  every  time  he  moved. 
Even  from  his  silent  lips  fell  rebuke  ;  through  his  shut 
eyelids  flashed  lightnings.  He  was  loved  and  he  was 
hated,  both  more  than  he  knew.  Fortunately  he  could 
always  lose  himself  in  his  darling  books ;  he  could  forget 
himself  quite  in  the  bosom  of  his  friends  j  he  could  find 
himself  in  communion  with  his  Father. 

At  the  close  of  this  chapter  a  word  will  not  be  out  of 
place,  though  it  may  not  be  necessary,  touching  the  intel 
lectual  influence  of  Mr.  Parker's  preaching.  He  is  com 
monly  thought  of  in  a  senseless,  traditional  sort  of  way,  as 
a  denier,  a  destroyer  of  faith.  This  every  positive  teacher 
must  be  :  his  "  yea  "  will  cast  a  shadow  proportionate  to 
its  own  substance.  Luther  had  a  strong  negative  side ; 
so  did  Calvin ;  so  did  Wesley ;  so  did  Channing.  Only 
the  light  wisp  of  vapor  causes  neither  darkness  nor  chill. 
The  man  who  departs  from  accepted  opinions  puts  them 
away :  if  he  bolts  from  them,  he  denies  them ;  if  he  is 
expelled  by  them,  he  spurns  them.  To  Mr.  Parker  the 
truth  was  an  open  common,  which  he  trod  with  stout 
walking-shoes,  no  doubt  to  the  offence  of  the  fastidious ; 
but  he  traversed  it  on  human  errands.  The  occasional 
hearer  of  a  single  discourse  might  experience  a  severe 
shock ;  could  not  help  it,  if  he  was  mentally  thin-skinned. 
The  frank  preacher  spoke  his  mind.  Questions  were 
started  to  which  the  casual  listener  found  no  answer; 
doubts  were  raised  which  the  novice,  unable  to  lay  them 
himself,  presumed  the  speaker  unable  to  quell ;  the  swift 
thoughts  would  strike  heedless  minds  at  an  unfortunate 
angle,  and  so  wound  them  that  they  went  limping  away  to 
warn  their  friends  against  the  poisonous  tongue.  But 
there  was  no  more  positive  preacher :  by  this  very  sign  he 


THE  PREACHER.  351 

was  positive.  To  build  up  faith  on  imperishable  founda 
tions  was  his  one  purpose ;  to  rescue  it  from  earthquake 
and  flood,  to  transfer  it  from  the  howling  wilderness  to 
the  safe  city,  to  enable  it  to  stand  by  virtue  of  the 
rational  laws  rather  than  by  force  of  clamps  and  buttresses, 
was  the  aim  of  his  life.  And  in  this  he  succeeded.  He 
created  five  convictions  where  he  unsettled  one.  He 
made  ten  believers  for  one  infidel.  They  who  listened  to 
him  statedly  felt  the  ground  firmer  under  their  tread  from 
week  to  week;  were  conscious  more  and  more  of  the 
reality  of  things  unseen,  and  the  validity  of  intangible 
hopes.  Could  it  have  been  otherwise  ?  Conviction  must 
beget  conviction :  it  cannot  beget  scepticism,  unless  it  be 
incidentally,  in  loose  and  spongy  minds.  Convictions 
have  roots,  and  roots  must  have  soil.  Parker  did  his  best 
to  fill  in  the  swampy  ground  before  building.  If  he  but 
partially  succeeded  in  many  cases,  the  fault  was  not  en 
tirely  his.  He  could  not  choose  his  audience,  nor  force 
them  to  remain  till  his  work  was  finished.  Hold  not  the 
sower  answerable  for  farm  and  climate. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE   REFORMER. 

THEODORE  PARKER  came  to  Boston  as  a  theological, 
not  as  a  social  reformer  ;  but  life  in  the  city  brought  him 
into  such  close  contact  with  misery,  crime,  and  vice,  that 
he  could  not  stand  aloof.  A  reformer  by  instinct,  readily 
kindled  into  indignation  at  the  thought  of  evils  he  never 
saw,  the  daily  communication  with  evil  in  its  concrete 
forms  moved  and  roused  every  energy  in  him.  His 
gravest  charge  against  religion  was  not  its  superstition, 
but  its  inhumanity. 

From  the  Journal. 

"  I  have  sometimes  in  the  woods  found  the  dead  body  of  an 
eagle,  all  dry,  and  yet  tenanted  by  horrid  worms,  —  a  fetid,  noi 
some  thing.  Once  it  was  an  eagle,  that  soared  and  screamed  in 
its  awful  heaven,  the  playmate  of  the  lightning  and  the  symbol  of 
the  thunder  :  now  it  is  carrion.  So,  too,  the  traveller  in  Sahara 
finds  in  the  desert  a  camel,  all  dead,  grim,  and  dried  up,  only 
skin,  bones,  and  emaciated  muscle,  shrivelled  by  the  hot  wind  of 
the  wilderness.  Once  it  was  a  ship  of  the  desert,  carrying  food 
in  his  pack-saddle,  and  water  in  himself.  How  the  children 
loved  the  camel !  Now  it  is  all  dead  and  worthless,  very 
noisome,  and  only  supplicating  burial;  its  teeth,  long  and  use 
less  and  dry,  protruding  from  its  withered  lips.  But  crazy  men 
stood  by  and  told  me  that  the  dead  camels  were  still  the  only 
ships  of  the  desert,  and  the  thunder  of  heaven  slept  in  the 
eagle's  claws. 

"  The  clergy  leave  the  errors  (lies),  follies,  and  sins  of  the 
35* 


THE  REFORMER.  353 

times   alone,  and  go,  first  to  routine,  and   second  to  mysti 
cism. 

"  They  erect  sin  (which  is  a  fact)  into  a  principle,  and  teach 
a  theory  of  wickedness,  —  e.g.,  declare  there  is  no  '  higher  law ; ' 
justify  slavery  and  fugitive-slave  law ;  praise  the  sins  of  men  in 
high  office." 

In  philosophy  Parker  was  an  optimist.  His  faith  in 
the  infinite  God,  "  Father  and  Mother  too,"  made  him  so. 

"Optimism,"  he  says  in  the  journal  (January,  1848),  "is  the 
piety  of  science.  In  the  world  of  creatures  subordinate  to  their 
instinct,  there  is  only  enough  capacity  of  pain  to  insure  the 
preservation  of  life  and  limb.  Hunger  is  no  evil,  but  only  a 
stimulus  powerful  enough  to  provoke  the  lion  and  the  sloth  to 
do  their  work. 

"  So  is  it  in  human  affairs.  Take  the  whole  world  together,  the 
whole  race  :  sin  is  the  provocation  to  virtue.  Take  remorse, 
the  subjective  and  self-conscious  evil  of  sin  ;  take  shortcoming, 
the  subjective  result,  not  necessarily  self-conscious  ;  take  out 
ward  evils  from  slavery,  war,  intemperance,  pauperism,  &c.,  — 
these,  all  the  sufferings  of  the  human  race,  are  just  adequate  to 
waken  mankind,  and  put  him  about  toil  for  a  greater  good. 
Take  the  evils  which  come  of  pauperism  now,  begging,  &c. : 
all  that  suffering  has  this  result :  — 

"  i.  It  stimulates  men  to  toil  rather  than  starve. 

"2.  It  stimulates  men  to  think  out  a  less  wasteful  mode  of 
life.  When  that  comes,  see  what  more  there  will  be  of  life  and 
welfare.  God  is  a  loving  Father,  not  a  fond  one  who  spoils  his 
children." 

But  Parker  was  no  idle  optimist,  disposed  to  sit  still 
and  see  Providence  work  up  the  raw  material  of  evil  into 
beatitude.  He  believed  in  conscience  as  a  powerful 
operative  in  the  celestial  factory ;  in  his  particular  con 
science  as  an  important  wheel,  rod,  strap,  driving-beam, 
or  what  not,  in  the  engine-room ;  and  was  mindful  to  keep 
it  in  good  working-order.  Small  faith  had  he  in  a  Provi 
dence  that  left  out  man ;  in  a  living  God  who  did  not  care 
3c<* 


354  THEODORE  PARKER. 

whether  his  highest  attributes  in  their  highest  incarnation 
co-operated  with  him  or  not ;  in  a  Divine  Will  that  worked 
underground  alone,  in  chemistry,  gravitation,  physiology. 
His  God  was  human,  and,  through  humanity,  made  him 
self  felt :  thus  his  optimism  was  an  inspiration,  not  an 
incubus. 

"  Men  begin  and  say,  '  THE  RIGHT.'  It  seems  hard  to  for 
get  themselves  :  so  they  say, '  THE  RIGHT  AND  I.'  That  serves 
their  turn :  so  they  take  another  step,  and  say,  '  I  AND  THE 
RIGHT.'  That  does  a  good  deal  better  ;  and  they  end  by  say 
ing,  '  I,  WITHOUT  THE  RIGHT,  OR  AGAINST  IT.'  Thus  they  gO 

to  the  Devil,  and  nobody  cares  how  soon.  God  honors  him 
who  says,  '  THE  RIGHT.'  " 

I  shall  sum  up  in  this  chapter  Mr.  Parker's  opinions  on 
the  leading  reforms  of  his  time,  collecting  passages  from 
letters  and  journals  of  different  dates  ;  this  method  being 
more  convenient  and  more  effective  than  a  reference  to 
his  views  at  intervals  along  his  career.  The  opinions 
changed  little,  if  at  all,  in  course  of  years ;  so  that  dates 
are  of  little  value. 

THE   SABBATH   AND   SUNDAY. 

In  1848  the  agitation  against  the  perpetuation  of  the 
Hebrew  sabbath  in  Christian  society,  which  had  been 
going  on  for  a  good  while,  broke  out  in  the  form  of  a  call 
for  an  Anti-Sabbath  Convention,  written  by  Mr.  Garrison, 
and  signed  by  many  leading  reformers,  including  Mr. 
Parker.  The  object  in  view  by  him  was  the  restoration 
of  the  Sunday  to  its  place  as  a  day  of  spiritual  recrea 
tion,  improvement,  and  joy ;  the  abrogation  of  penal  laws 
that  punished  as  crime  innocent,  beneficent,  and  even 
necessary  infringements  of  the  ancient  Mosaic  institu 
tions  ;  and  the  extension  of  freedom  of  conscience  to  men 
of  all  faiths.  The  convention  met  in  March,  and  resulted, 
as  conventions  so  often  do,  in  a  large  pamphlet,  the  most 


THE  REFORMER.  355 

interesting  and  valuable  part  of  which  was  Mr.  Parker's 
exhaustive  speech  on  the  whole  subject,  containing  essen 
tially  the  views  that  were  expressed  in  a  sermon  on  "  The 
Most  Christian  Use  of  Sunday,"  which  was  preached 
two  months  earlier.  It  was  too  moderate  in  tone  to  sat 
isfy  the  convention,  crowded  as  it  was  with  radicals  of 
the  extremest  description,  but  too  advanced  in  spirit  to 
suit  even  the  "  liberal  "  community  of  Boston.  Nearly 
two  months  before  the  convention,  he  wrote  to  Rev.  In 
crease  Smith, — 

"  The  Anti-Sabbath  Convention  is  not  to  be  an  Anti-Sun- 
day  Convention  :  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  think  we  can  make  Sunday 
ten  times  more  valuable  than  it  is  now,  only  by  abating  the 
nonsense  connected  with  it. 

"  I  have  all  along  been  a  little  afraid  of  a  re-action  from  the 
sour,  stiff,  Jewish  way  of  keeping  the  Sunday,  into  a  low, 
coarse,  material,  voluptuous,  or  mere  money-making  abuse  of 
it.  But,  if  we  take  it  in  time,  we  can  cast  out  the  Devil  without 
calling  in  the  aid  of  Beelzebub.  The  past  is  always  pregnant 
with  the  future.  The  problem  of  the  present  is  to  deliver  the 
past.  If  the  case  is  treated  scientifically,  the  labor  is  easy,  the 
throes  natural,  and  the  babe  is  born  ;  but,  if  the  case  is  not 
treated  scientifically,  the  labor  is  long  and  difficult,  the  throes 
unnatural,  and  the  sufferings  atrocious.  The  poor  old  matron 
must  smart  under  the  forceps,  perhaps  submit  to  the  Caesarian 
operation,  perhaps  die;  and  the  little  monster  who  thus  comes 
into  the  world  by  a  matricide  is  himself  in  a  sad  condition,  and 
will  have  a  sad  remembrance  all  his  life  of  the  fact  that  he 
killed  his  mother. 

"  Now,  I  think  that  we  can  deliver  the  Jewish  sabbath  of  a 
fine  healthy  Sunday,  who  will  remember  that  he  comes  of  a 
Hebrew  stock  on  one  side,  but  that  mankind  is  his  father  ;  and, 
while  he  labors  for  the  human  race,  will  never  make  mouths  at 
the  mother  who  bore  him.  But,  if  the  matter  be  delayed  a  few 
years,  I  think  there  is  danger  for  the  health  of  both  child  and 
mother. 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  to  the  convention,  and  will  speak  too. 
I  mean  to  do  so ;  but  as  I  am  not  a  bit  of  a  re-actionist,  and 


356  THEODORE  PARKER. 

share  none  of  the  excesses  of  either  party,  I  suppose  I  shall  be 
too  radical  for  the  conservatives,  and  too  conservative  for  the 
radicals,  and  so  be  between  two  fires,  —  ^r^j-fires  too." 


And  so  indeed  it  proved.  I  copy  from  the  journal  the 
resolutions  he  prepared  for  the  convention,  but  which  did 
not  pass  :  — 

"  I.  That  it  is  not  our  design  to  weaken  the  moral  considera 
tions  or  arguments  which  lead  Christians  to  devote  Sunday  to 
worship,  and  efforts  to  promote  their  growth  in  religion. 

"  2.  That  we  learn  from  history,  from  observation,  and  all  our 
experience,  that  the  custom  of  devoting  one  day  in  the  week  to 
the  special  work  of  spiritual  culture  has  produced  very  happy 
results. 

"  3.  That  we  desire  to  remove  such  obstacles  as  now  hinder 
men  from  the  most  Christian  use  of  the  first  day  in  the  week. 

"  4.  That  we  consider  the  superstitious  opinions  respecting 
the  origin  of  the  institution  of  the  Sunday,  as  a  day  to  be  de 
voted  to  religious  purposes,  to  form  the  chief  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  a  yet  more  profitable  use  of  that  day. 

"  5.  That  we  should  lament  to  see  the  Sunday  devoted  to  labor 
or  to  sport  ;  for,  though  we  think  all  days  are  equally  holy,  we 
yet  consider  that  the  custom  of  devoting  one  day  in  the  week 
mainly  to  spiritual  culture  is  still  of  great  advantage  to  mankind. 

"  6.  That,  as  Christians  and  as  men,  we  lament  and  protest 
against  all  attempts  of  governments  to  tyrannize  over  the  con 
sciences  of  men." 

From  the  Journal. 

MARCH  23. 

The  Anti-Sabbath  Convention  assembled  to-day.  It  was  a 
more  respectable-looking  body  of  men  than  I  expected  to  see 
together.  Mr.  Garrison's  call  was  read,  and  sounded  well.  His 
resolutions  were  thorough,  but  had  some  of  the  infelicities  which 
have  always  been  distasteful  to  me. 

24th.  —  Garrison's  resolutions  passed.  I  voted  against 
some,  for  some,  and  was  silent  upon  others.  My  own  lie  on 
the  table  ;  for  after  so  much  objection  was  made  to  them  by 
Lucretia  Mott,  Garrison,  Foster,  and  Pillsbury,  I  thought  it  not 
worth  while  to  disturb  the  convention  with  such  matters. 


THE  REFORMER.  357 

The  report  of  the  convention  contains  about  all  that 
can  be  said  on  the  subject,  and  is  richly  worth  reading. 

TEMPERANCE. 

The  same  moderation  of  opinion  that  characterized  Mr. 
Parker's  views  on  the  sabbath  question  marked  his  ex 
pressed  views  on  temperance.  The  studies  on  intemper 
ance  are  frequent  and  minute  in  the  private  journal.  He 
made  them  everywhere,  —  in  Northern  and  Southern  Eu 
rope,  England,  America.  The  question  was  interesting  to 
him  economically,  morally,  socially,  ethnologically,  nation 
ally.  He  was  a  temperate  man  himself,  abstaining  from 
wine  till  his  physicians  advised  it  as  a  medicine.  I  find 
this  record  in  the  journal,  under  date  of  Jan.  26,  1846  :  — 

"  To-day  a  man  came  out  from  Boston  to  sign  in  my  pres 
ence  the  temperance  pledge.  He  brought  two  of  them.  I 
handed  him  a  gold  pen  to  write  it  with,  and  added  mine  with 
his.  He  keeps  one,  and  I  keep  the  other." 

Often  in  sermons  he  said  tremendous  things  about  in 
temperance.  The  "  drunkard-makers,"  as  he  called  the 
traders  in  ardent  spirits,  came  in  for  their  share  of  his 
blasting  invective.  The  "  demon  of  the  still  "  he  warned 
people  against ;  did  his  best  to  paint  black  and  to  exor 
cise.  His  rhetoric  was  fearful :  "  You  see  men  about 
your  streets  all  afire ;  some  half  burnt  down  ;  some  with 
all  the  soul  burned  out,  only  the  cinders  left  of  the  man, 
—  the  shell  and  wall,  and  that  tumbling  and  tottering, 
ready  to  fall.  Who  of  you  has  not  lost  a  relative,  at  least 
a  friend,  in  that  withering  flame  ?  "  John  Pierpont,  the 
champion  of  temperance  in  the  Boston  pulpit,  had  his 
sympathy  to  the  last ;  and  the  people  who  expelled  him 
from  Hollis  Street  for  preaching  against  the  evil  by  which 
his  wealthy  parishioners  lived,  received  at  his  hands  a  cas- 
tigation  they  neither  forgave  nor  forgot. 


358  THEODORE  PARKER. 

But  Parker  never  ceased  to  be  a  student  of  facts, 
whether  they  made  for  a  theory  or  against  it.  In  a  long 
letter,  written  in  1858  to  Dr.  Henry  I.  Bowditch,  who  had 
asked  him  for  the  results  of  his  observations  on  consump 
tion,  he  says,  — 

"  Intemperate  habits  (where  the  man  drinks  a  pure  though 
coarse  and  fiery  liquor,  like  New-England  rum)  tend  to  check 
the  consumptive  tendency ;  though  the  drunkard,  who  himself 
escapes  its  consequences,  may  transmit  the  fatal  seed  to  his 
children. 

"  I  knew  a  consumptive  family  living  in  an  unhealthy  situation, 
who  had  four  sons.  Two  were  often  drunk,  and  always  intem 
perate,  —  one  of  them  as  long  as  I  remember  ;  both  consumptive 
in  early  life,  but  now  both  hearty  men,  from  sixty  to  seventy. 
The  two  others  were  temperate,  —  one  drinking  moderately,  the 
other  but  occasionally :  they  both  died  of  consumption,  the 
oldest  not  over  forty-five. 

"  Another  consumptive  family,  living  in  such  a  situation  as 
has  been  already  described,  had  many  sons  and  several  daugh 
ters.  The  daughters  were  all  temperate,  married,  settled  else 
where,  had  children,  died  of  consumption,  bequeathing  it  to 
their  posterity.  Five  of  the  sons  whom  I  knew  were  drunk 
ards  ;  some,  of  the  extremest  description.  They  all  had  the 
consumptive  build,  and  in  early  life  showed  signs  of  the  dis 
ease  ;  but  none  of  them  died  of  it :  some  of  them  are  still  burn 
ing  in  rum." 


The  last  expression  shows  that  Mr.  Parker  thought  the 
tendency  to  consumption  no  excuse  for  the  intemperance  ; 
though  he  himself  drank  red  wine,  and  even  brandy,  when 
threatened  by  the  same  disease.  There  is  no  evidence 
that  in  the  last  danger  he  regretted  not  having  been  a  sot 
as  a  preventive.  Physiological  questions  he  kept  distinct 
from  moral. 

Thus  he  comments  in  the  journal  on  the  prohibitory  law 
that  was  passed  in  Maine  in  the  winter  of  1850-51 :  — 


THE  REFORMER.  359 

*'  They  have  a  new  law  in  Maine,  passed  last  winter,  which 
went  into  operation  in  May  or  June.  This  prohibits  the  use  of 
all  intoxicating  drinks  except  for  medical  or  mechanical  pur 
poses.  They  are  now  enforcing  it  with  great  vigor.  It  makes 
the  whole  State  an  asylum  for  the  drunkard.  The  principle  was 
long  ago  acted  on,  though  perhaps  not  recognized,  that  the 
public  should  seize  and  destroy  things  deadly  or  dangerous  to 
the  community.  Thus  no  man  is  allowed  to  keep  a  *  dangerous 
beast.'  In  France,  and  perhaps  all  countries,  the  government 
seizes  contaminated  meat,  &c.  Instruments  for  gambling,  for 
counterfeiting,  &c.,  are  also  contraband  of  peace.  Suspected 
persons  are  deprived  of  arms  in  war  time.  All  this  is  of  the 
same  principle.  In  Ohio  there  is  a  party —  I  hope  a  large  one — 
that  will  vote  for  none  but  teetotalers.  If  Maine  can  keep  her 
actual  law,  and  Ohio  her  contemplated  one,  for  a  single  genera 
tion,  it  will  be  of  immense  value  to  the  State. 

"  The  law  seems  an  invasion  of  private  right.  It  is  an  inva 
sion,  but  for  the  sake  of  preserving  the  rights  of  all.  I  think 
wine  is  a  good  thing:  so  is  beer,  rum,  brandy,  and  the  like, 
when  rightly  used.  I  think  the  teetotalers  are  right  in  their 
practice  for  these  times,  but  wrong  in  their  principles.  I  believe 
it  will  be  found  on  examination,  that,  other  things  being  equal, 
men  in  social  life  who  use  stimulants  moderately  live  longer, 
and  have  a  sounder  old  age,  than  the  teetotalers.  I  don't  know 
this,  but  believe  it.  I  fancy  that  wine  is  the  best  of  stimulants. 
But  now  I  think  that  nine-tenths  of  the  alcoholic  stimulus  that  is 
used  is  abused.  The  evil  is  so  monstrous,  so  patent,  so  univer 
sal,  that  it  becomes  the  duty  of  the  State  to  take  care  of  its  citi 
zens  ;  the  whole,  of  its  parts.  If  my  house  gets  a-fire,  the  bells 
are  rung,  the  neighborhood  called  together,  the  engines  brought 
out,  and  water  put  on  it  till  my  garret  is  a  swamp.  But,  as  I  am 
fully  insured,  I  don't  care  for  the  fire,  and  contend  that  my 
rights  are  invaded  by  the  engine-men  and  their  water.  They 
say,  '  Sir,  you  would  burn  down  the  town.'  " 

This  is  the  whole  of  Mr.  Parker's  doctrine  on  this 
momentous  subject.  It  is  not  original.  In  the  mouths  of 
some  people  it  would  have  a  fanatical  sound  on  its  practi 
cal  side,  and  an  empty  sound  on  its  philosophical ;  but  from 


360  THEODORE  PARKER. 

his  it  sounded  otherwise.  His  earnest  humanity  interpreted 
both  sides  ;  forbade  his  being  cold,  forbade  his  being  hot. 
He  looked  at  the  physiological  question  as  a  philosopher, 
at  the  social  evil  as  a  man.  The  aspect  that  is  conspicu 
ous  gains  his  attention.  If  the  evil  alone  is  conspicuous,  he 
will  lay  aside  the  most  plausible  theory  that  interferes  with 
the  directness  of  his  blow.  Each  class  of  facts  in  its  own 
order ;  first,  that  which  bears  immediately  on  the  moral 
salvation  of  men.  That  he  held  to  be  primary ;  there  he 
had  no  doubts.  Whatever  questions  might  be  open  to  dis 
pute,  the  question  that  was  not  at  all  in  dispute  was  the 
question  of  duty  on  the  part  of  the  strong  to  aid  the  weak, 
of  the  safe  to  rescue  the  perishing,  of  the  wise  to  teach 
the  simple.  Let  government  represent  the  conscience  and 
intelligence  of  the  people,  and,  to  his  practical  under 
standing,  the  matter  was  plain :  if  the  government  failed 
to  represent  the  conscience  and  intelligence  of  the  people, 
it' was  the  reformer's  office  to  mend  it  so  that  it  would. 
Parker  was  a  realist ;  no  doctrinaire,  no  sentimentalist. 
He  had  no  patent  medicine  or  infallible  pill :  he  could 
not  march  with  a  trainband,  but  was  prepared  to  go  from 
one  position  on  a  question  to  another,  as  the  fortunes  of 
the  battle  turned ;  his  principle  being,  to  win  the  battle  of 
humanity  on  the  field  of  fact.  The  new  fact  determined 
the  new  attitude. 

WAR. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  his  friend  Robert 
White,  written  June  8,  1852,  declares  that  Mr.  Parker  was 
far  from  being  a  non-resistant :  — 

"  In  respect  to  repelling  force  by  force,  I  should  differ  from 
you  widely.  I  respect  the  conduct  of  the  Friends  in  this  matter 
also;  but  I  do  not  share  their  opinions.  I  follow  what  seems  to 
me  the  'light  of  nature.'  It  seems  to  me  the  opinion  of  Jesus  is 
made  too  much  of  in  this  particular.  He  supposed  the  ' world' 
was  soon  to  end,  and  the  '  kingdom  of  heaven '  was  presently  to 


THE  REFORMER.  361 

be  established.  He  therefore  commands  his  followers  to  l  resist 
not  evil;  '  not  only  not  to  resist  with  violence,  but  not  at  all.  In 
like  manner,  he  tells  them  to  '  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow? 
These  counsels,  I  take  it,  were  given  in  the  absolute  sense  of  the 
words,  and  would  do  well  enough  for  a  world  with  no  future. 
The  day  was  *  at  hand '  when  the  Son  of  man  should  come  with 
power  and  great  glory,  and  give  fourfold  for  all  given  in  charity, 
and  eternal  life  besides.  But  the  Son  of  man  (or  God)  is  to  use 
violence  of  the  most  terrible  character  (Matt.  xxv.  31-46). 
Men  were  not  to  take  vengeance,  or  even  to  resist  wrong ;  not 
to  meditate  the  defence  they  were  to  make  when  brought  before 
a  court :  all  was  to  be  done  for  them  by  supernatural  power. 
These  things  being  so,  with  all  my  veneration  for  the  character  of 
Jesus,  and  my  reverence  for  his  general  principles  of  morality 
and  religion,  I  cannot  accept  his  rule  of  conduct  in  such  mat 
ters. 

"  Yet  I  think  violence  is  resorted  to  nine  times  when  it  is 
needless  to  every  one  instance  when  it  is  needed.  I  have  never 
preached  against  the  doctrine  of  the  non-resistants,  but  often 
against  the  excess  of  violence  in  the  state,  the  church,  the 
community,  and  the  family.  I  think  cases  may  occur  in  which 
it  would  be  my  duty  to  repel  violence  by  violence,  even  with  tak 
ing  life*.  Better  men  than  I  am  think  quite  differently  ;  and  I 
respect  their  conscientiousness,  but  must  be  ruled  by  my  own 
conscience,  and,  till  otherwise  enlightened,  still  use  violence,  if 
need  be,  to  help  a  fugitive." 

So  much  for  the  general  principle.  Touching  the  prob 
lem  of  war  in  particular,  he  rather  skirted  the  gigantic 
subject  than  doggedly  attacked  it.  He  was  exceedingly 
curious  about  war,  —  the  cost  of  it ;  the  expense  of  main 
taining  armies ;  the  waste  of  life ;  the  effects,  physical  and 
moral,  on  society,  whether  to  stunt  and  brutalize,  or  to  stim 
ulate  and  ennoble ;  the  part  it  played  in  the  progress  of 
mankind;  its  avoidableness  orinevitableness;  the  amount 
of  guilt  implied  in  it ;  the  value  of  the  virtues  it  educated. 
His  inquiries  extended  as  far  as  to  the  strength  of  cannon, 
and  the  ordinary  supply  of  ammunition  kept  on  hand  by 
government;  but  no  rule  was  given  that  covered  every 
31 


362  THEODORE  PARKER. 

special  case.  No  doubt  he  thought  war  occasionally  justi 
fiable  and  beneficent,  as  well  as  morally  inevitable.  But 
the  perusal  of  such  a  letter  as  he  wrote  to  Charles  Sumner 
after  reading  his  superb  Fourth-of-July  oration  on  "  The 
True  Grandeur  of  Nations  "  leaves  no  doubt  in  regard  to 
the  nature  of  his  moral  sentiments :  — 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Aug.  17,  1845. 

DEAR  SIR, —  I  hope  you  will  excuse  one  so  nearly  a 
stranger  to  you  as  myself  for  addressing  you  this  note  ;  but  I 
cannot  forbear  writing.  I  have  just  read  your  oration  on  "  The 
True  Grandeur  of  Nations  "  for  the  second  time,  and  write  to 
express  to  you  my  sense  of  the  great  value  of  that  work,  and 
my  gratitude  to  you  for  delivering  it  on  such  an  occasion. 
Boston  is  a  queer  little  city :  the  public  is  a  desperate  tyrant 
there,  and  it  is  seldom  that  one  dares  disobey  the  commands  of 
public  opinion.  I  know  the  reproaches  you  have  already 
received  from  your  friends,  who  will  now,  perhaps,  become 
your  foes.  I  have  heard  all  sorts  of  ill  motives  attributed  to 
you,  and  know  that  you  must  suffer  attack  from  men  of  low 
morals,  who  can  only  swear  by  their  party,  and  live  only  in  pub 
lic  opinion.  The  Church  and  State  are  both  ready  to  engage  in 
war,  however  unjust,  if  a  little  territory  can  be  added  to  the 
national  domain  thereby.  The  great  maxims  of  Christianity, 
the  very  words  of  Christ,  are  almost  wholly  forgotten.  Few 
dare  move  an  inch  in  advance  of  public  opinion. 

I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  so  nobly  exposing  the  evils 
of  war,  its  worthlessness  and  its  waste.  The  noises  made  about 
you  show  plainly  that  you  have  hit  the  nail  on  the  head.  I  am 
glad  the  "  park  of  artillery  "  got  let  off  against  you. 

Laudari  a  viro  laudato  is  thought  of  some  value  ;  and  so  it  is 
no  small  praise  to  be  censured  by  some  men.  I  hope  you  will 
find  a  rich  reward  in  the  certainty  that  you  have  done  a  duty 
and  a  service  to  mankind.  I  wish  a  cheap  edition  might  be 
printed ;  for  I  want  to  scatter  abroad  fifty  or  a  hundred  copies. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  print  a  cheap  edition  like  that  of  Mr. 
Mann's  noble  oration  ? 

I  beg  you  to  excuse  me  for  writing  you  this  letter,  and  be 
lieve  me 

Very  respectfully  yours,  &c., 

THEO.  PARKER. 


THE  REFORMER.  363 

The  sermon  on  War,  preached  Jan.  4,  1846,  and  the 
special  sermon  on  the  Mexican  War,  preached  June  25, 
1848,  leave  no  doubt  in  regard  to  the  tendency  of  Mr. 
Parker's  own  teaching  on  this  great  subject. 

CAPITAL  PUNISHMENT. 

The  strong  preacher's  convictions  on  this  point  were 
spoken  without  qualification  j  not  often,  perhaps,  but  with 
emphasis. 

Prom  the  Journal. 

MAY  30,  1845. 

Attended  the  anti  -  capital  -  punishment  meeting,  —  nothing 
remarkable,  but  as  a  sign  of  the  times.  Soon  this  sin  of  judi 
cial  murder  will  be  over.  (Mem.  —  The  remarkable  variety  of 
persons  :  all  conditions  were  represented  there.) 

AUG.  30,  1850. 

To-day,  by  command  of  the  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  Dr. 
John  White  Webster,  professor  of  chemistry  and  mineralogy  in 
Harvard  University,  was  hanged  in  the  jail-yard  at  Boston 
(Leverett  Street)  at  twenty-five  minutes  before  ten  o'clock,  A.M. 
This  is  the  second  execution  in  Boston  within  a  very  few  years ; 
and  it  is  a  terrible  sin  —  it  seems  to  me  —  thus  to  take  the  life 
of  a  man  completely  in  our  power.  The  laws  deal  equally  with 
the  poor  negro  and  the  well-educated  and  respectable  professor ; 
but  I  think  it  cannot  be  long  that  we  shall  continue  thus  to  kill 
men  for  killing  man. 

PRISONS. 

To  Charles  M.  Ellis. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Saturday  Night,  June,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  CHARLES,  —  I  want  to  trouble  you  again  a  few 
minutes.  Can  you  get  for  me  a  copy  of  the  last  June  Report  of 
the  Committee  on  the  City  Prisons,  Houses  of  Correction,  &c.  ? 
Then,  too,  can  you  find  out  how  many  persons  from  Boston  are 
sent  to  the  State  Prison  from  June  9,  1845,  to  June  9,  1846,  and 
the  term  of  their  sentences  ?  I  want  to  ascertain  this  matter 
very  much.  Who  can  tell  me  the  proportion  of  second-comers 


364  THEODORE  PARKER. 

in  the  State  Prison  ?  You  will  see  the  use  I  mean  to  make  of 
this  information  when  I  print  the  sermon  "  Of  the  Perishing 
Classes  in  Boston." 

Yours  truly  but  hastily, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

That  sermon  "  Of  the  Perishing  Classes  "  had  the  meat 
of  many  reports  in  it,  and  the  soul  of  a  deep  and  wise 
humanity.  It  should  be  added,  that,  while  denouncing 
heartily  the  prison  system  as  barbarous  and  idiotic,  he  was 
not  enthusiastic  over  the  substitutes  which  were  proposed 
for  it.  When  the  community  glorified  the  Reform  School 
at  Westborough,  Mass.,  he  doubted.  "  The  school  at  West- 
borough  is  a  school  of  crime,"  he  said.  He  expressed  him 
self  not  sorry  to  hear  that  it  was  burned.  This  was  quite 
in  keeping  with  his  philosophy  of  reform.  The  substitu 
tion  of  a  plausible  evil  for  an  undisguised  evil  gave  him 
no  consolation.  The  education  of  humanity  was  the  car 
dinal  point ;  and  that  was  a  deep  matter,  which  good 
men  might  blunder  about  as  well  as  bad  men.  Amiability 
did  not  excuse  folly. 

WOMAN. 

Under  this  caption  I  can  only  hint  in  general  terms  at 
Mr.  Parker's  opinions  on  some  of  the  deep  questions  which 
most  can  ask,  and  few  can  answer,  and  none  yet  can  decide, 
affecting  the  happiness  and  well-being  of  women.  That  he 
estimated  the  native  genius  of  woman  as  highly  as  any, 
ranked  her  as  loftily  in  the  order  of  humanity,  expected  as 
much  from  her,  demanded  for  her  as  complete  an  enfran 
chisement  and  as  thorough  an  education,  recognized  as 
unqualifiedly  her  claim  to  social  and  civil  privileges,  anti 
cipated  as  glorious  results  from  her  participation  in  the 
active  concerns  of  life,  need  hardly  be  said.  Evidence 
could  be  collected,  if  need  were,  from  published  and 
unpublished  sermons ;  but  here  as  elsewhere  the  actual 


THE  REFORMER.  365 

condition  of  things  engaged  him  more  than  the  possible 
condition  at  a  future  day.  He  allowed  his  Utopias  to 
float  in  the  clouds,  and  occupied  himself  with  digging  for 
foundations  on  which  they  could  securely  stand. 

The  problem  of  prostitution  interested  him  much  from 
the  earliest  day. 

BOSTON,  April  24,  1852. 

DEAR  HIGGINSON,  —  I  send  you  our  circular,  which  will 
interest  your  kind  heart.  Hope  to  see  you  soon. 

Yours  truly,  T.  P. 

The  circular  asked  co-operation  in  the  work  of  an  asso 
ciation  that  aimed  to  protect  girls  whom  idleness  and 
vagrant  habits  led  into  temptation,  and  made  offenders 
against  the  laws.  Boys  were  provided  for  in  parallel 
emergencies.  He  wanted  a  similar  care  bestowed  on  girls, 
—  to  take  charge  of  them  before  they  became  offend 
ers  ;  to  take  possession  of  such  as  were  arraigned  for 
crimes  ;  to  furnish  a  temporary  home  for  them  in  the  city, 
instruction  in  the  means  of  gaining  a  living,  and  places  in 
the  country  towns  of  New  England  for  such  as  needed 
them.  Rev.  John  T.  Sargent  consented  to  act  as  agent  of 
the  association  in  the  courts  and  elsewhere,  becoming  bail 
for  such  as  he  thought  deserving.  Among  the  names  sub 
scribed  to  the  project  were  Edmund  Jackson,  Theodore 
Parker,  Hannah  Stevenson,  and  Wendell  Phillips. 

On  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  1854  he  is  writing  to  a  compa 
ny  of  philanthropists  to  come  and  devise  means  to  help  the 
poor  girls  in  the  streets  of  Boston  who  were  on  the  way  to 
the  brothel.  He  is  sick  too  ;  tormented  with  rheumatism  ; 
laid  prone  on  the  sofa.  The  good  work  done  in  New 
York  by  Charles  Loring  Brace  interested  him  exceedingly, 
especially  as  it  bore  on  the  moral  condition  of  exposed 
girls.  He  took  at  least  one  journey  to  New  York  on  pur 
pose  to  consult  with  Mr.  Brace  on  his  methods  and 
results;  and  always,  when  in  his  neighborhood,  made 
3'* 


366  THEODORE  PARKER. 

a   point   of   collecting   information   from   that   valuable 
source. 

The  misery  incident  to  thoughtless  marriages  oppressed 
him  sorely  j  and  he  spoke  of  them  in  terms  that  would  give 
aid  and  comfort  to  some  modern  enemies  of  the  marriage 
institution,  if  taken  in  their  bald,  literal  sense,  apart  from 
the  earnest  moral  feeling  that  lifted  all  his  opinions  above 
the  range  of  low-minded  discussion.  The  following  frank 
letter  to  Miss  Stevenson  will  answer  as  well  as  many  notes 
from  the  journal  to  convey  one  phase  of  his  feeling  on  this 
vexed  theme :  — 

WEST  NEWTON,  August,  1852, 
Fourth  Vacation  Day. 

DEAR  HANNAH,  —  Thank  you  for  the  nice  letter  which 
came  Tuesday  fur  mir  selbst  allein.  There  is  nothing  in  it 
which  I  dissent  from.  The  other  which  I  wrote  contained  some 
exaggeration,  and  did  not  fully  represent  my  own  view  of  the 
matter.  I  had  been  talking  with  one  who  —  and  his  wife 
equally  —  suffered  intensely  from  a  mismarriage,  and  took  rather 
his  view  of  the  matter  than  my  own  :  at  least,  the  letter  partook 
of  the  exaggeration  of  his  statement. 

About  half  the  people  in  the  world  want  a  husband  or  a 
wife  for  the  utility  of  the  thing,  for  the  various  modes  of 
marketable  utility.  The  partner  is  an  instrument,  a  medium 
for  the  accomplishment  of  various  purposes.  The  highest  of 
these  is  the  attainment  of  respectability.  The  partner  is  a 
medium  of  respectability.  The  sufferings  of  these  persons 
are  only  like  the  pain  of  an  ill-fitting  shoe,  or  the  mortification 
of  a  bad  bargain,  or  the  discomfort  of  a  hard  bed.  I  have  not 
much  feeling  for  these  persons  in  their  connubial  griefs. 

But  when  a  noble  person  marries  for  the  noble  end,  and 
then  finds  it  is  no  marriage,  there  is  a  horrible  suffering ;  and  all 
sorts  of  abnormalities  of  conduct,  internal  and  external,  may  be 
expected  to  take  place.  The  very  eminence  of  morality  in  New 
England  intensifies  the  suffering ;  for  elsewhere  the  connubial 
Abschweifungen  are  tolerated,  and  the  disappointed  persons 
find  some  relief,  at  least  abatement,  for  their  long-continued 
affliction. 


THE  REFORMER.  367 

Still  I  must  think  that  the  connubial  organization  is  extreme 
ly  imperfect,  and  does  great  injustice  on  all  sides.  There  is  the 
gross  licentiousness  of  young  men,  continued  by  some  through 
all  their  lives  ;  then  the  unnatural  and  involuntary  celibacy  of 
so  many  women,  not  to  speak  of  conduct  that  sends  many 
to  the  madhouse :  all  of  this  is  unnatural,  is  against  nature, 
and  only  exists  in  consequence  of  the  general  tyranny  which 
has  been  so  long  exercised  by  the  bigger  brain  over  the  smaller. 
There  is  a  radical  defect  in  our  organization  of  the  family.  In 
most  countries,  polygamy  is  a  rough  remedy  against  the  invol 
untary  celibacy  of  women.  Among  the  Catholics,  monastic 
establishments  are  an  organization  of  celibacy,  the  voluntary 
or  the  involuntary.  The  celibacy  is  often,  with  the  Catholic 
women,  against  their  consent.  The  organization  is  voluntary. 
(A  nun  is  an  old  maid  organized.)  In  Spain  there  are  now  in 
the  several  conventual  establishments  six  thousand  nuns  ;  in 
Boston  five  thousand  and  fifteen  widows,  and  how  many  nuns 
unorganized,  involuntary  nuns,  nuns  of  the  orders  of  neces 
sity  !  Now,  there  will  always  be  noble  women  who  refuse 
marriage,  not  from  lack  of  affection  or  lack  of  passion,  but  for 
other  reasons  and  considerations  ;  and  they  will  have  their  joy 
and  delight.  There  will  always  be  unlucky  marriages.  There 
is  always  a  margin  of  miscarriage  in  all  human  affairs  ;  but  this 
mighty  amount  of  involuntary  celibacy  on  the  part  of  women, 
and  its  consequent  suffering,  will  gradually  disappear  fast  as 
the  idea  of  her  equality  obtains  footing.  When  woman  has  the 
same  rights  of  mind,  body,  and  estate,  recognized  by  all,  that 
man  has,  then  you  will  not  find  five  thousand  and  fifteen  widows 
in  Boston,  and  three  hundred  and  seventy-six  widowers. 

Dear  old  ladye,  good-by ! 

From  the  Journal. 

"  From  psychological  considerations,  I  should  think  that 
monogamy  was  the  natural  law  of  human  nature.  I  find  the 
same  thing  shown  in  the  equality  of  the  sexes ;  and  the  same 
conclusion  is  confirmed  by  history.  E.g.,  among  the  negro 
slaves  there  is  no  marriage-form ;  the  whole  is  voluntary : 
but  separations  almost  never  take  place.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  North-American  Indians,  —  e.g.,  the  Osages,  who  know 


368  THEODORE  PARKER. 

nothing  of  this,  —  though  there  is  no  law  or  custom  to  pre 
vent  it.  If  the  whole  were  more  free  in  social  life,  I  doubt  not 
that  marriage  would  be  happier,  and  divorces  more  rare. 
What  a  deal  of  prudery  is  there  about  the  matter  here  in  New 
England ! 

"  All  marriages  that  I  have  ever  known,  or  almost  all, 
are  fragmentary.  If  I  read  aright,  a  perfect  and  entire  mar 
riage  can  only  take  place  between  equals,  or,  at  least,  equiva 
lents.  Now,  it  frequently  happens  that  the  parties  are 
vastly  unequal,  one  by  no  means  the  equivalent  of  the  other. 
Hence  they  are  married  but  partially,  and  touch  only  in  one 
point  or  so.  I  know  a  man  whose  wife  has  no  passion  :  senti 
ment  enough  ;  but  the  passional  part  of  marriage  is  hateful  to 
her.  In  this  point,  then,  the  man  is  not  married.  I  know 
many  where  m  soul  there  is  no  equivalent ;  and  in  soul  the  man 
is  not  married.  So  with  intellect,  affection,  benevolence,  &c. 
A  man  not  mated,  or  a  woman  not  mated,  seeks  sorrowing  the 
other  half,  and  wanders  up  and  down  without  rest.  Most  men 
are  married  only  in  their  philoprogenitiveness  or  their  acquisi 
tiveness,  perhaps  in  their  amativeness.  Marriage  is  mainly  a 
discipline  to  most  men  :  to  few  is  it  mainly  an  enjoyment.  A 
man's  courtship  often  begins  after  his  marriage  ;  and  he  tries  to 
piece  out  a  wife,  —  a  little  here,  and  a  little  there.  With  women 
the  case  is  worse  still.  To  a  sluggish  nature  this  is  a  slight 
thing :  he  wants  to  sleep,  and  sleeps.  But  to  a  great  active 
soul  it  must  be  a  terrible  curse.  A  man  marries  a  wife  far 
superior  to  himself.  He  cannot  carry  her.  She  wants  sym 
pathy  in  the  unsupported  part,  and  she  must  have  it.  Suppose 
she  does  not  have  it:  that  part  of  her  nature  perishes,  and 
corrupts  the  rest.  If  she  does  have  it,  then,  in  that  point,  her 
legal  husband  is  not  her  true  one.  So  it  goes." 

This  is  the  staple.  It  is  shrewd  and  commonsensical, 
but  has  not  the  great  moral  lift  that  characterizes  Mr. 
Parker's  mind.  The  sorrow  and  perplexity  are  too  much 
for  him. 

Certain  aspects  of  this  subject  are  well  treated  in 
letters  to  Robert  White  of  New  York,  printed  in  full  by 
Mr.  Weiss.  They  are  interesting,  but  add  little  to  the 


THE  REFORMER.  369 

hints  already  given.  The  discussion  is  thorough  on  the 
lower  planes  ;  but  it  does  not  ascend  to  the  higher.  The 
spiritual  element  is  somehow  wanting.  The  redeeming 
feature  all  through  is  the  faith  in  God  and  man,  and  the 
brave  trust  that  the  race  will  work  its  way  through  the 
slough  to  better  states. 

"  This  great  matter  (of  divorce),"  he  wrote  to  Miss  Cobbe  in 
1859,  "  I  have  not  touched,  for  two  reasons :  ist,  I  don't  feel 
quite  competent  to  deal  with  it,  and  perhaps  never  shall,  even 
if  I  live  ;  and,  2d,  things  are  going  on  very  well  without  my 
interference,  —  perhaps  better  without  it.  All  the  progressive 
States  of  America  are  changing  their  laws  of  divorce  ;  and  in 
New  England  they  have  altered  much  in  fifty,  even  in  twenty 
years.  The  instinct  and  reflection  of  the  people  demand  a 
change.  In  the  new  Western  States  the  alterations  are  very 
great  and  rapid.  In  private  I  do  not  share  the  opinions  attrib 
uted  to  me,  and  have  painfully  spent  much  time  in  attempting 
to  reconcile  married  people  who  at  first  sought  a  divorce.  Yet, 
out  of  many  trials,  I  remember  but  one  where  the  attempt  was 
at  all  successful.  I  have  small  sympathy  with  men  and  women 
who  would  either  make  or  break  a  marriage  lightly.  But  I  do 
not  think  material  adultery  is  the  only  breach  of  marriage.  I 
think  I  once  petitioned  the  Massachusetts  Legislature  to  make 
habitual  drunkenness  a  ground  for  divorce,  if  the  aggrieved 
party  desired  it.  But  proper  notions  of  marriage,  and  so  of 
divorce,  can  only  come  as  the  result  of  a  slow  but  thorough 
revolution  in  the  idea  of  woman.  At  present,  all  is  chaotic  in 
the  relation  between  her  and  man  :  hence  the  ghastly  evils  of 
involuntary  celibacy,  of  unnatural  marriage,  and  of  that  dreadful 
and  many-formed  vice  which  disgraces  our  civilization.  But  we 
shall  gradually  outgrow  this  feudalism  of  woman." 

The  problem  of  woman  suffrage  was  another  which  Mr. 
Parker  did  not  work  out.  The  agitation  had  not  come, 
up  in  his  day  as  it  has  since ;  so  that  the  consideration  of 
it  was  speculative,  and  therefore  lacked  vitality.  On  gen 
eral  principles,  he  was  doubtless  disposed  to  favor  the 
reform.  Were  he  alive  to-day,  he  would  probably  be  one 


370  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  its  leaders,  He  evidently  wished  to  encourage  in 
others  faith  in  the  capabilities,  in  all  noble  directions,  of 
woman  j  and  in  conversation  occasionally  spoke  with 
enthusiasm  of  the  part  they  would  perform  in  situations 
now  held  exclusively  by  men.  But  his  own  faith  was  a 
little  at  the  mercy  of  moods,  and  of  obvious  facts  which 
met  his  eye  from  day  to  day.  I  find  the  following  obser 
vation  in  the  journal  of  1859  :  — 

"  It  is  surprising  to  notice  the  odds  between  the  talk  of  men 
and  women,  who  bear  the  same  relation  to  mankind  and  to 
humankind.  The  women  talk  so  much  more  on  trifles  ;  and, 
when  they  treat  important  matters,  it  is  in  a  comparatively 
poor  and  narrow  manner.  Is  this  the  effect  of  ill  habits  and 
defective  education  ?  or  does  it  come  from  a  radical  difference 
in  the  male  and  female  nature  ?  For  some  months  past  I  have 
sat  in  the  midst  of  companies,  and  heard  the  talk,  with  no  power 
to  join  in  it,  such  is  the  condition  of  my  voice  ;  and  have 
thereby  had  a  better  opportunity  to  observe  than  ever  before. 
I  have  been  struck  with  the  difference.  If  half  the  American 
Senate  were  women,  who  should  bear  the  same  relation  to  their 
female  constituents  as  the  men  to  the  male,  I  think  half  (per 
haps  more  than  half)  of  the  debates  would  be  of  a  strange  char 
acter." 

I  have  no  intention,  in  quoting  this  passage,  to  commit 
Mr.  Parker  against  the  movement  in  favor  of  woman 
suffrage,  —  many  ardent  friends  of  that  movement  are  as 
alive  as  he  seems  to  have  been  to  a  multitude  of  practical 
difficulties  associated  with  it,  —  but  merely  to  exhibit  fairly 
his  position,  or  want  of  position,  on  the  subject.  In  this, 
as  in  other  cases,  his  faith  in  the  principle  would  have 
proved  more  than  a  match  for  his  doubts  respecting  de 
tails  of  operation.  His  confidence  in  the  regenerating 
power  of  liberty,  or  of  humanity  in  a  condition  of  liberty, 
was  too  entire,  and  his  trust  in  the  future  too  sincere,  to 
be  daunted  or  dashed  by  difficulties  incidental,  perhaps,  to 
a  transient  phase  of  social  progress.  Certain  it  is  that 


THE  REFORMER.  371 

women  would  have  always  found  in  him  a  champion 
pledged  to  defend  every  one  of  their  natural  rights,  and 
loyal  to  claim  every  human  privilege.  He  would  always 
have  been  more  than  a  partisan,  but  never  less  than  a 
friend. 

SPIRITUALISM. 

This,  too,  is  to  be  ranked  among  the  reforms ;  for  a 
reform  indeed  it  is,  and,  as  such,  was  honestly  recognized 
by  the  candid  mind  which  tried  to  reckon  all  movements 
at  their  true  value.  Again  and  again  Parker  admitted  its 
worth  as  an  agent  in  emancipating  the  human  mind.  As 
early  as  1854  I  find  mention  of  the  subject  in  a  letter 
written  to  Albert  Sanford.  His  intellect  was  constitu 
tionally  averse,  some  will  say  constitutionally  powerless, 
to  grapple  with  matters  that  bordered  on  the  supernatural ; 
and  familiar  practical  objections  occurred  to  him  with 
force.  The  ludicrous  side  was  ever  obvious.  The  spirits 
were  never  at  home  when  he  called ;  and  they  never 
pulled  his  latch-string,  though  it  always  hung  out.  It  was 
not  his  way  to  seek  an  extramundane  cause,  if  a  mundane 
cause  could  be  conjectured  ;  and,  if  none  could  be,  his 
demand  that  the  extramundane  cause  should  justify  itself 
intellectually,  inclined  him  rather  to  rest  in  ignorance 
than  to  repose  in  faith.  In  a  word,  he  never  obtained 
satisfaction.  Yet  he  blamed  the  scientific  men,  Agassiz 
among  them,  for  their  unfair  methods  of  investigating  the 
phenomena  ;  rebuked  the  prigs  who  turned  up  their  noses 
at  the  idea  of  investigating  the  subject  at  all ;  and  took 
faithful  measure  of  the  unbelief  in  immortality  which 
pronounced  communication  "between  the  visible  and  in 
visible  worlds  impossible.  He  admitted  to  his  friend 
Prof.  Desor  that  Spiritualism  does  two  good  things  :  ist,  It 
knocks  the  nonsense  of  the  popular  theology  to  pieces, 
and  so  does  a  negative  service ;  2d,  It  leads  cold,  hard, 
materialistic  men  to  a  recognition  of  what  is  really 


372  THEODORE  PARKER. 

spiritual     in     their    nature,    and     so     does     a    positive 
good. 

"In  1856,"  he  writes  in  the  journal,  "it  seems  more  likely 
that  Spiritualism  will  become  the  religion  of  America  than  in 
156  that  Christianity  would  be  the  religion  of  the  Roman 
empire,  or  in  856  that  Mohammedanism  would  be  that  of  the 
Arabian  populations.  1st,  It  has  more  evidence  for  its  won 
ders  than  any  historic  form  of  religion  hitherto.  2d,  It  is 
thoroughly  democratic,  with  no  hierarchy,  but  inspiration  open 
to  all.  3d.  It  is  no  fixed  fact,  has  no  punctmn  stans,  but  is  a 
punctum  fluens;  not  a  finality,  but  shows  a  great  vista  for  the 
future.  4th,  It  admits  all  the  truths  of  religion  and  morality 
in  all  the  world  sects." 

Of  Swedenborg,  the  high  priest  of  Spiritualism,  Mr. 
Parker  had  not  an  adoring  appreciation.  "  Swedenborg 
has  had  the  fate  to  be  worshipped  as  a  half-god  on  the 
.  one  side,  and  on  the  other  to  be  despised  and  laughed  at. 
It  seems  to  me  that  he  was  a  man  of  genius,  of  wide 
learning,  of  deep  and  genuine  piety ;  but  he  had  an  ab 
normal,  queer  sort  of  mind,  —  dreamy,  dozy,  clairvoyant, 
Andrew  Jackson  Davisy;  and,  besides,  he  loved  opium 
and  strong  coffee,  and  wrote  under  the  influence  of  those 
drugs.  A  wise  man  may  get  many  nice  bites  out  of  him, 
and  be  the  wiser  for  such  eating;  but  if  he  swallows 
Swedenborg  whole,  as  the  fashion  is  with  his  followers,  — 
why,  it  lies  hard  on  the  stomach,  and  the  man  has  a  night 
mare  on  him  all  his  natural  life,  and  talks  about  the 
'  Word  '  and  the  '  Spirit,'  '  correspondences,'  &c.  Yet  the 
Swedenborgians  have  a  calm  and  religious  beauty  in  their 
lives  which  is  much  to  be  admired." 

In  August,  1838,  after  reading  a  Life  of  Swedenborg,  — 
probably  Hobart's,  the  first  published  biography  in  Eng 
lish  (Boston,  1831),  —  he  makes  the  following  note  in  the 
journal : — 

"  It  seems  written  with  the  most  honest  intentions,  but  is  not 
satisfactory  to  me  farther  than  this  :  it  shows  he  was  a  very 


THE  REFORMER.  373 

remarkable  man.  As  to  his  wonderful  deeds,  I  have  no  ante 
cedent  objection  to  them  ;  though  the  evidence  is  not  always 
sufficient  to  establish  their  actuality.  If  actual,  they  are  of  no 
value  to  my  mind  as  proof  of  spiritual  inspiration.  I  cannot 
believe  in  his  interpretations  of  the  Scriptures,  if  he  were  to 
move  mountains. 

"  There  is  a  little  unfairness  in  giving  part  of  the  testimony 
of  Kant,  without  giving  the  part  against  the  credibility  of  Swe- 
denborg." 

Parker  was,  then,  acquainted  with  Swedenborg's  story 
before  reading  this  book.  It  would  have  been  singular 
indeed  had  so  extraordinary  an  intellectual  phenomenon 
escaped  him. 

To  effect  a  theological  reform  Parker  conceived  to  be 
his  mission.  To  this  the  cast  of  his  mind  and  his  pas 
sion  for  books  inclined  him.  He  was  a  student  and  a 
thinker,  endowed  with  a  prodigious  capacity  for  receiving 
the  thoughts  of  others,  and  with  a  singular  power  of 
simplifying  them  in  statement.  Though  not  a  philosopher 
in  the  technical  meaning  of  the  word,  he  had  a  vigorous 
grasp  on  the  moral  bearing  of  ideas,  which  qualified  him 
to  be  a  leader  in  the  general  philosophic  world.  He 
treated  ideas  as  if  they  were  living  powers,  and  watched 
their  working  with  the  intense  interest  of  a  spectator  at 
a  gladiatorial  show,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  with  the 
absorbing  enthusiasm  of  a  master  of  the  games.  His 
faith  in  the  regenerating  force  of  a  correct  theology  was 
vital.  He  believed  with  all  his  heart,  that  if  the  theology 
of  the  Romanist  and  Protestant  —  in  other  words,  of  the 
"  Christian  "  churches  —  could  be  destroyed,  and  juster 
views  of  God,  and  of  man's  relations  to  God,  could  be 
substituted  for  it,  society  would  feel  the  change  in  all  its 
departments,  from  government  affairs  to  domestic  service : 
every  wrong  would  be  righted,  every  mischief  removed, 
every  mistake  corrected,  every  sorrow  taken  away.  His 
32 


374  THEODORE  PARKER. 

interest,  therefore,  in  social  reforms,  like  those  mentioned 
above,  was  at  first  incidental  to  his  interest  in  theology : 
it  illustrated  the  bearings  of  his  theological  idea ;  it  ex 
hibited  in  concrete  form  the  drift  of  his  speculative  spirit ; 
it  was  an  application  of  his  scheme  of  the  universe  to  the 
separate  concerns  of  the  community. 

Thus  far,  therefore,  though  his  sentiments  were  those  of 
a  reformer,  Parker,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  was 
not  a  political  reformer.  He  was  not  a  reformer  as  Gar 
rison  was,  or  Phillips ;  as  Wilberforce  was,  or  Clarkson,  or 
George  Thompson,  or  John  Howard,  —  men  who  gave  them 
selves  to  a  particular  cause,  consecrated  time  and  means 
and  talents  to  it,  fought  for  it,  made  sacrifices  for  it,  were 
ready  to  die  for  it.  The  interest  he  felt  in  temperance, 
peace,  education,  the  abolition  of  the  gallows,  the  rescue 
of  imperilled  girls,  did  not  take  him  from  his  study,  force 
him  into  daily  consort  with  men  of  affairs,  make  him  dis 
continue  or  countermand  his  orders  for  foreign  books, 
keep  him  on  his  feet  day  and  night,  fill  his  house  with 
children  of  misery,  his  hours  with  efforts  to  relieve  suffer 
ing  and  thwart  iniquity,  his  heart  with  anxieties  for  the 
destiny  of  his  country.  The  time  for  this  had  not  come ; 
but  it  was  coming.  When  it  came,  it  found  him  ready. 
His  reform  of  theology  meant,  at  bottom,  reform  of 
society ;  and,  if  society  raised  the  loudest  cry,  his  ear  was 
open  to  hear  it. 

The  following  sonnet,  copied  from  the  journal  of  1849, 
expresses  the  spirit  in  which  he  tried  to  work :  — 

"  Father,  I  will  not  ask  for  wealth  or  fame, 
Though  once  they  would  have  joyed  my  carnal  sense : 
I  shudder  not  to  bear  a  hated  name, 
Wanting  all  wealth,  myself  my  sole  defence. 
But  give  me,  Lord,  eyes  to  behold  the  truth  ; 
A  seeing  sense  that  knows  the  eternal  right ; 
A  heart  with  pity  filled,  and  gentlest  ruth  ; 
A  manly  faith  that  makes  all  darkness  light : 


THE  REFORMER.  375 

Give  me  the  power  to  labor  for  mankind  ; 
Make  me  the  mouth  of  such  as  cannot  speak ; 
Eyes  let  me  be  to  groping  men  and  blind ; 
A  conscience  to  the  base  ;  and  to  the  weak 
Let  me  be  hands  and  feet ;  and  to  the  foolish,  mind ; 
And  lead  still  further  on  such  as  thy  kingdom  seek." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   FIGHT  WITH   SLAVERY. 

THEODORE  PARKER  never  was,  never  could  have  been, 
indifferent  to  slavery  as  an  inhuman  system.  His  atten 
tion  was  early  fixed  on  it  as  a  blunder  in  economics,  and 
a  blot  on  American  institutions.  A  sermon  on  slavery, 
preached  in  1841,  and  again  in  1843,  was  published.  In 
1842  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  Perhaps  you  feel  a  stronger 
interest  than  I  do  in  the  welfare  of  Latimer  "  (a  fugitive 
slave,  whose  examination  was  pending,  and  in  whose  be 
half  the  abolitionists  had  asked  public  intercession  from 
divines),  "and  of  the  slaves  in  general.  It  must  be  a 
very  strong  one  if  it  is  so.  But  I  will  not  boast  of  my 
zeal."  It  was  not,  however,  till  1845,  when  slavery  be 
came  prominent  in  the  national  politics,  and  menaced 
republican  government  with  overthrow,  when  men  began 
to  talk  of  the  "slave  power,"  that  his  concern  in  the 
matter  became  engrossing.  That  year  finds  him  busy 
with  statistics  on  the  general  subject.  He  writes  to 
the  historian  Michelet  for  information  in  regard  to  a 
work  alluded  to  by  him,  as  he  is  preparing  an  essay  on 
slavery  in  the  Roman  empire.  The  same  year  he  col 
lects  facts  on  slavery  in  the  United  States,  its  introduc 
tion  and  domestication  there.  The  scheme  of  the  "  Letter 
to  the  Citizens  of  the  United  States,"  published  in  Decem 
ber,  1847,  is  drawn  up  at  this  time  in  rough  form  j  books 
are  noted,  and  materials  gathered  from  all  sources,  famil- 
376 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  377 

iar  and  remote.  The  "Letter,"  when  finished,  was  a 
model  of  terse  composition,  throbbing  with  an  earnest 
ness  as  deep  as  Garrison's,  and  animated  by  a  wisdom  as 
calm  as  Channing's.  Slavery  had  become  the  one  prac 
tical  question  in  America,  involving  all  others.  It  called 
for  practical  measures :  the  practical  man  rallied  all  his 
forces  to  meet  it.  In  1848  it  was  suggested  to  him  that 
political  life  would  give  him  a  better  position  than  the 
pulpit.  In  one  of  his  despondent  moods  he  writes  thus 
in  the  journal :  — 

"May  19.  —  Several  persons  of  late,  as  well  as  formerly, 
have  talked  to  me  about  going  to  Congress  as  representative 
or  senator.  To  which  there  are  two  objections.  I.  Nobody 
ivould  send  me.  I  don't  believe  any  town  in  Massachusetts 
would  give  me  any  post  above  that  of  hog-reeve ;  and  I  don't 
feel  competent  for  that  office :  a  man  in  spectacles  could  not 
well  run  after  swine.  2.  Politics  are  not  my  vocation,  nor  yet 
my  desire.  I  aim  to  labor  for  ideas,  to  set  men  a-thinking. 
I  feel  as  if  born  for  a  pulpit,  if  for  any  thing.  If  I  could  be 
well,  —  well  enough  to  work,  to  do  a  man's  duty,  —  I  should  be 
glad.  Yet  that  is  not  a  thing  I  ever  mention  in  my  prayers.  I 
am  content,  yes,  content,  to  pay  the  price  of  violating  the  laws 
of  the  body  in  struggling  for  an  education  ;  though  I  knew  not 
what  I  did." 

In  a  braver  mood  he  saw  the  advantage  of  his  pro 
fessional  position.  He  was  responsible  to  nobody,  and 
nobody  to  him :  he  was  his  own  master ;  owned  his  own 
mill ;  built  his  own  dam ;  could  grind  as  much  and  as  little 
as  he  liked.  He  could  speak  his  own  word,  in  his  own 
way,  and  in  his  own  time ;  was  the  servant  of  no  party, 
the  slave  of  no  machine.  He  could  excite  the  sentiment 
and  supply  the  idea  for  the  political  reformer  to  work  up 
for  his  uses.  But  he  believed  in  politics,  too,  as  the 
instituted  agency  for  carrying  ideas  into  effect.  He  did 
not  stand  outside  of  politics,  as  the  abolitionists  did  : 

rather  he  stood  above  them,  as  one  who  would  make  them 
32* 


378  THEODORE  PARKER. 

serve  his  turn.  He  voted;  encouraged  voting;  counted 
the  actual  and  reckoned  the  possible  votes  ;  interested 
himself  in  the  candidates  to  be  voted  for ;  stirred  up  the 
enthusiasm  of  constituencies;  marshalled  his  armies  of 
ballots  as  a  general  his  myrmidons ;  all  the  time  ringing 
out  his  prophetic  call  to  conscience,  and  impressing  on 
men  the  majesty  of  the  eternal  law.  No  disabling  scru 
ples  respecting  the  constitutional  guaranties  of  slavery 
restrained  him  on  the  one  side ;  no  ethnological  doubts 
respecting  the  negro's  rank  in  mankind  restrained  him 
on  the  other.  He  saw  democratic  institutions  —  the  dream 
of  history,  the  hope  of  humanity — menaced  with  destruc 
tion  ;  and  he  rushed  to  the  rescue,  snatching  up  the  most 
effective  weapons  that  lay  near  his  hand. 

A  brief  sketch  of  the  episodes  in  the  conflict,  their 
dates  and  characteristic  features  at  least,  is  necessary  to 
explain  his  course.  The  events  have  passed  into  history ; 
and,  even  if  they  had  not,  are  important  here  only  as 
illustrating  the  man,  his  methods  and  his  spirit. 

The  annexation  of  Texas  —  the  first  step,  as  he  fore 
saw,  and  as  it  proved,  in  the  march  of  the  slave  power 
towards  its  goal,  the  supreme  control  of  the  American 
government — was  effected  in  1845.  By  this  measure  a 
territory  as  large  as  France  was  added  as  a  slave  State  to 
the  Union. 

The  war  with  Mexico  —  the  first  consequence  of  the 
annexation  of  Texas  —  followed  in  1846,  and  was  advo 
cated  by  the  same  party  that  carried  through  the  former 
measure.  The  issue  of  the  war  increased  the  reputation 
of  the  party,  and  greatly  raised  the  confidence  of  the 
slave  power. 

The  election  of  Gen.  Taylor  to  the  presidency  in  1848 
confirmed  the  gains  already  made,  and  favored  new 
plots  for  the  feudal  usurpation.  In  1850  the  famous 
Fugitive-slave  Bill  was  passed,  which  opened  the  whole 
North  as  a  hunting-ground  for  Southern  masters  whose 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  379 

slaves  had  escaped  into  the  Middle  and  New-England 
States.  Of  this  bill  Daniel  Webster  was  the  great  Whig 
supporter.  He  carried  with  him  the  wealth,  eminence, 
and  social  respectability,  of  Massachusetts. 

The  administration  of  Franklin  Pierce  gave  to  the  con 
spirators  an  opportunity  to  consolidate  their  plans,  which 
they  diligently  made  use  of,  and  so  openly,  that  the  public 
sentiment  of  the  North  was  at  last  aroused  to  a  sense  of 
the  danger. 

On  the  1 5th  of  May,  1854,  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill, 
which  had  passed  the  Senate  on  the  4th,  passed  the 
House  of  Representatives  in  spite  of  vigorous  opposition 
from  Northern  men ;  and  a  new  episode  in  the  course  of 
events  was  opened.  Neither  Territory  having  the  popula 
tion  required  for  admission  as  a  State,  both  made  haste  to 
stock  them  with  people  after  their  own  kind.  The  "  bor 
der  ruffians  "  poured  in  from  Missouri,  and  took  violent 
possession  of  the  strategic  points.  The  emigration  soci 
eties  formed  their  organizations  in  the  free  States,  and 
pushed  their  bands  of  pioneers  across  the  Western  prairies, 
fully  equipped  with  implements  of  civilization,  and  armed 
with  rifles  to  defend  them.  The  suppressed  war  broke 
out  in  the  new  Territories  with  fury.  Outrages  of  every 
kind  made  existence  there  tolerable  to  none  but  com 
batants.  Murders,  accompanied  by  acts  of  deep  atrocity, 
were  of  daily  occurrence.  There  was  no  law,  no  restraint 
of  custom,  no  respect  for  property  or  person.  Re-enforce 
ments  were  continually  coming  in  to  the  aid  of  either 
party ;  and,  as  numbers  increased,  difficulties  accumulated. 
The  condition  of  things  was  one  of  simple  anarchy :  men 
went  armed ;  houses  were  prepared  for  assault ;  guards 
were  stationed  as  in  time  of  war.  Nobody  was  safe. 

Prominent  among  the  figures  that  loomed  up  in  this 
dreadful  time  was  that  of  John  Brown,  the  stern  man  of 
grim  puritanical  cast,  whose  deed  of  sacrifice  closed  one 
epoch  of  history. 


380  THEODORE  PARKER. 

In  May,  1856,  Charles  Simmer  delivered  in  the  Senate 
his  famous  speech,  "The  Crime  against  Kansas,"  which 
lashed  the  proslavery  party  to  frenzy,  and  brought  upon 
him  a  brutal  assault,  on  the  2ist,  by  Preston  Brooks. 
The  Massachusetts  senator  dragged  his  outraged  form 
from  Washington  to  Boston,  touching  all  hearts  with  pity, 
filling  all  souls  with  indignation,  and  swelling  the  party 
which  had  determined  that  the  slave  power  should  lose 
the  next  battle  and  be  crushed. 

But  it  was  not.  The  battle  was  fiercely  fought  between 
John  Charles  Fremont  and  James  Buchanan.  Buchanan 
won;  and  the  dominion  of  evil  was  strengthened  for 
another  term.  The  tide  was  not  turned  till  1860,  when 
the  success  of  Abraham  Lincoln  checked  the  slavehold 
ers'  advance,  but  too  late  for  a  peaceful  solution  of  the 
problem.  The  civil  war  punished  the  South  for  its  in 
iquity,  and  the  North  for  its  complicity. 

At  every  crisis  of  this  long  conflict,  from  the  first 
moment  till  near  its  close,  Theodore  Parker  made  himself 
felt.  His  voice  was  the  loudest ;  his  presence  was  ubiqui 
tous  ;  his  action  was  prompt.  He  enlisted  for  the  war, 
and  brought  all  his  forces  with  him.  The  importation  of 
books  slackened ;  the  folios  were  dropped ;  purse  and 
brain  were  devoted  to  the  one  duty  of  meeting  the  public 
emergency.  With  astonishing  assiduity  he  went  through 
the  Northern  States,  enlightening  and  rousing  the  people 
with  ponderous  lectures  that  were  orations,  sermons,  argu 
ments,  historical  disquisitions,  harangues,  all  in  one. 
His  lecturing-field  touched  the  Southern  border,  and 
once,  at  least,  lapped  over.  Thomas  Garrett,  the  famous 
station-master  of  the  "  Underground  Railroad,"  pro 
posed  to  him  to  lecture  in  Wilmington,  Del.  (a  place 
where  the  proslavery  feeling  was  particularly  acrid)  ;  tell 
ing  him  at  the  same  time  that  the  undertaking  was  dan 
gerous  ;  that  he  would  be  exposed  to  insult,  and  perhaps 
to  personal  violence.  The  peril  was  a  temptation  ;  and 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  381 

the  invitation  was  accepted  with  alacrity.  A  special  lec 
ture  was  prepared  for  the  occasion.  On  his  arrival,  posters 
were  out  on  the  walls,  of  an  alarming  nature.  The  hall 
was  filled  with  excited  people  ;  scowling  faces  confronted 
him  as  he  entered ;  there  were  whispers  of  tar  and  feath 
ers  in  the  back-yard.  Parker  took  the  stand,  and,  as 
quietly  as  if  he  were  in  Music  Hall,  announced  his 
theme  :  "  Rhode  Island  and  Delaware,  the  Two  Smallest 
States  in  the  Union."  He  began  by  drawing  a  picture  of 
the  two  States  as  regarded  natural  advantages,  —  of  posi 
tion,  climate,  resources,  historical  and  political  antece 
dents,  —  all  so  conspicuously  in  favor  of  Delaware,  that  the 
audience  was  delighted.  Having  thus  sketched  the  States 
as  they  ought  to  be,  he  drew  another  picture,  represent 
ing  them  as  they  were,  —  Delaware  poor,  unenterpris 
ing,  decadent;  Rhode  Island  vigorous,  rich,  advancing. 
Having  set  the  two  pictures  face  to  face,  the  question 
was  raised  and  answered,  "What  explains  these  unex 
pected  results  ? "  With  careful  array  of  facts  and  figures, 
it  was  shown  how,  in  the  one  case,  slavery  had  defeated  the 
promise  of  Nature ;  and  how,  in  the  other  case,  freedom 
had  defeated  Nature's  menace.  The  lecture  was  long, 
serious,  and  close ;  but  its  vast  ability,  its  evident  candor, 
and  its  unimpassioned  tone,  kept  the  audience  attentive  to 
the  end,  and  left  them  deeply  impressed.  A  handsome 
substitute  for  the  tar-barrel  was  a  vote  of  thanks.  Par 
ker's  earnestness  disarmed  the  rancor  of  those  who  would 
listen  to  him.  He  spoke  as  a  teacher,  not  as  a  partisan. 
His  aim  was  truth,  not  victory. 

His  pulpit  rang  from  Sunday  to  Sunday  with  the  tones 
of  a  Hebrew  prophet.  He  kept  his  eye  on  every  public 
man,  sounded  his  trumpet-call  in  the  ears  of  the  lagging, 
admonished  the  hesitating,  warned  the  faltering,  praised 
the  valiant,  instructed  the  ignorant,  denounced  the  faith 
less,  respecting  no  persons,  but  aiming  his  blows  where 
his  blows  would  fall  heaviest  The  history  of  those  dozen 


382  THEODORE  PARKER. 

years  cannot  be  written  in  this  volume :  nor  need  it 
be ;  for  it  is  written  in  books  easily  accessible ;  in  none 
more  truthfully  or  vividly  than  in  those  of  Theodore  Par 
ker  himself.  We  are  studying  now  Parker's  character,  for 
the  sake  of  its  influence  on  other  characters  to  be  trained 
for  other  emergencies.  Let  us  try  to  understand  how  he 
worked. 

The  following  letter  to  George  Bancroft  shows  him 
willing,  if  necessary,  to  break  friendship,  rather  than  be 
faithless  to  his  own  soul:  — 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Nov.  18,  1845. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  was  once  in  friendly  intercourse  with  the 
historian  of  the  United  States  ;  and  the  remembrance  of  that 
emboldens  me  to  write  the  following  letter  to  an  important 
member  of  the  cabinet  council,  which  is  the  actual  government 
of  the  United  States.  Once  you  wrote  the  history  of  other 
men's  achievements  ;  I  need  not  say,  a  noble  history  of  noble 
men  and  noble  deeds :  now  you  are  to  enact  a  history,  not  to 
write  one  ;  to  create  materials  for  the  future  historian.  You 
can  add  new  laurels  to  such  as  you  have  already  won,  acquir 
ing  the  imperishable  renown  of  noble  words,  and  deeds  as  noble  ; 
or  add  another  to  the  list  of  men  whose  deeds  are  words,  and 
words  only.  I  look  to  you  for  the  noble  deeds.  I  know  that 
most  of  your  political  opponents  do  not  expect  that ;  I  know 
that  some  of  your  political  friends  expect  it  no  more  :  but  I 
have  obstinately  said  to  both,  that  I  expected  the  historian  of 
great  worth  to  show  a  worth  fit  to  be  as  greatly  described. 
But  to  come  to  the  point.  It  is  rumored  about  in  this  neigh 
borhood,  it  is  the  talk  in  State  Street,  that  you,  with  others  in 
place,  are  desirous  of  a  war  with  England,  —  a  war,  too,  on  ac 
count  of  that  wretched  business  of  Oregon. 

Now,  I  cannot  believe  the  talk  of  State  Street  to  that  effect ; 
nor  can  I  believe,  spite  of  "  The  Union  "  and  its  editorials,  that 
the  two  leading  nations  of  the  world  are  to  plunge  into  a  war  out 
of  which  both  are  to  rise  losers.  I  will  say  with  Cicero,  that 
there  never  was  a  just  war  or  an  unjust  peace.  I  write  to  beg  of 
you —  if  the  thought  of  war,  or  even  the  thought  of  that  thought, 
enters  into  the  councils  of  the  government— to  consider  that  pos- 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  383 

terity,  which  awards  fame  or  disgrace  to  men,  will  damn  into 
deep  infamy  that  government  which  allows  a  war  to  take  place 
in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Yes,  posterity  will 
pass  a  damning  sentence  on  the  men  who  even  tampered  with 
the  war-spirit  so  madly  active  in  these  half-brutal  men  who 
swarm  in  our  parties.  I  say,  too,  that  this  vengeance  will  fall 
heaviest  on  you,  and  that  deservedly.  You  know  at  what  cost 
war  is  waged.  I  don't  speak  of  treasure,  not  even  of  blood, 
but  of  the  confusion  it  brings  into  the  minds,  and  hearts  too,  of 
men.  You  know,  from  the  bloody  page  of  history,  how  war  in 
the  latter  ages  has  arrested  the  progress  of  man.  A  war  of  but 
a  single  year  between  England  and  the  United  States,  I  seriously 
believe,  would  retard  the  progress  of  man  full  half  a  century.  I 
know  some  men  would  win  a  reputation  for  a  few  months  in  the 
mouths  of  the  vulgar ;  but  I  know,  and  you  know,  that  such 
fame  is  real  infamy,  and  will  soon  appear  such  even  to  those 
men  that  are  the  food  for  powder. 

There  is  yet  another  matter  on  which  I  feel  constrained  to 
speak  :  that  is  the  admission  of  Texas  as  a  slave  State.  As  a 
member  of  the  cabinet,  you  must  have  an  influence  on  this  mat 
ter.  As  an  historian,  you  know  that  slavery  was  the  corruption 
of  Greece  and  the  undoing  of  Rome.  As  a  philosopher,  you 
know  that  slavery  is  supported  only  by  the  worst  passions  of 
man  ;  that  it  is  this  day  the  infamy  of  the  whole  nation  ;  that 
it  is  the  curse  of  the  very  South,  which  clamors  for  it  with  such 
foolish  speech ;  and  is  the  real  cause  of  all  the  ill  feeling  between 
the  South  and  the  North ;  yes,  the  drug  of  an  evil  prophet 
thrust  into  the  mouth  of  that  fair  statue  our  fathers  set  up  to 
the  Genius  of  Freedom,  —  a  drug  which  will  rend  their  work 
into  fragments  and  ruins.  Now  I  ask  if  you,  George  Bancroft, 
the  historian  of  freedom,  are  willing  to  aid  in  bringing  into  this 
republic  that  province  which  has  restored  slavery  after  poor 
Mexico  had  abolished  it.  You  told  me  once  you  thought  your 
lecture  on  Roman  slavery  was  the  best  thing  you  ever  wrote. 
I -think  few  men  place  you  higher  as  an  author  than  I  have 
done ;  but  I  confess  that  I  know  no  passage  of  your  writings 
that  surpasses  your  thoughts  on  Roman  slavery. 

Now,  with  that  before  the  eye,  and  fresh  in  remembrance,  if 
you  can  allow  the  introduction  of  Texas  as  a  slave  State  at  all, 
still  more  with  that  infamous  constitution  it  has  adopted;  if 


384  THEODORE  PARKER. 

you  can  do  that,  —  why,  what  is  your  lecture  on  Roman  slavery, 
what  your  whole  history  of  freedom,  but  a  piece  of  brilliant 
declamation  ?  I  love  noble  words  as  well  as  you ;  but  I  love 
deeds  worthy  of  noble  words,  —  love  them  far  better.  I  prize  lit 
erary  reputation ;  I  don't  mean  that  I  aspire  to  it,  only  that  I 
place  a  great  author  very  high  in  the  scale  of  man  :  but  I 
would  rather  posterity  should  say  of  me,  that,  holding  a  place 
in  the  government  of  the  United  States,  I  opposed  that  govern 
ment  in  its  scheme  of  annexing  a  slave  territory  big  as  the 
kingdom  of  France,  and,  in  consequence  of  that  opposition, 
gave  up  my  place  in  the  cabinet  sooner  than  be  partner  to  a 
horrid  wrong,  —  I  say  I  would  rather  have  posterity  tell  that  of 
me  than  say  I  wrote  the  history  of  the  United  States  better 
than  mortal  ever  wrote  before.  You  will  say  I  am  but  a  poor 
country  minister,  with  no  voice  in  the  Commonwealth,  and  no 
knowledge  of  political  affairs.  All  that  is  true  :  none  know  it 
better  than  I  know  it.  But  I  do  know  what  is  right  by  the  ever 
lasting  law  of  God j  and  I  do  know  that  the  admission  of  Texas  is 
wrong  by  these  laws.  I  beg  you  in  this  matter  not  to  consult 
with  that  mushroom  popularity  which  is  gained  without  merit, 
and  lost  without  crime  ;  but  to  act  worthy  of  a  philosopher  j  of  a 
man  enriched  by  the  wisdom  of  the  past,  and  full  of  the  culture 
of  a  Christian's  noble  life.  If  you  do  so,  future  generations, 
ay,  the  present  generation  too,  will  crown  your  head  with 
the  noblest  of  honors,  —  the  applause  bestowed  by  good  men 
on  great  and  noble  deeds.  If  you  do  it  not,  if  you  falsify  your 
own  bravest  words,  and  allow  the  area  of  slavery  to  be 
extended,  thus  to  be  perpetuated,  while  you  lift  up  no  word  of 
manly  remonstrance,  how  can  the  world  help  regarding  you 
as  a  mere  declaimer,  a  poor  sophist,  who  had  the  art  to  cheat 
the  vulgar  with  fine  words,  and  deceive  the  many  lovers  of 
freedom  by  brilliant  pretensions,  but  was  himself  words  and  pre 
tensions,  nothing  more  ?  If  you  falsify  your  own  writings,  what 
can  you  say  to  me  if  I  burn  your  books,  and  then  say,  "  He  and 
his  books  are  the  same  thing,  —  FINE-SOUNDING  WORDS,  BUT  AT 

LAST  ASHES   AND  DUST  "  ? 

Act  only  as  you  have  written,  and  your  reputation  is  secure  : 
a  great  deal  more  than  that,  —  you  will  have  done  a  man's  deeds. 
Men  will  write  on  your  tomb,  "  PAR  OFFICIO  ATQUE  OFFICIUM 
MAXIMUM."  That  would  be  a  nobler  epitaph  than  this  :  "Levis 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  385 

sit  terra  super  terram   lev  em; "   and  this   is   the   inscription 
which  justice  writes  on  many  a  tomb. 

What  shall  I  say  at  the  end  of  such  a  letter  as  this  ?  Why, 
this  only,  —  that  it  is  the  strongest  proof  of  friendship  and 
esteem  that  I  could  show  any  man.  If  you  are  offended,  I 
shall  be  sorry  for  it :  not  sorry  that  I  have  written  ;  not  sorry 
that  I  expected  deeds  commensurate  with  your  words ;  sorry 
only  that  I  do  not  find  them.  But  I  will  trouble  you  no  more, 
except  to  say  I  hope  you  will  be  as  jealous  of  your  own  real 
honor  as  I  have  been  ;  and  to  add,  that,  with  many  good  hopes 
for  your  welfare  and  usefulness,  I  am 

Most  heartily  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

The  dead  earnestness  comes  out  again  thus:  Parker 
had  made  a  speech  at  a  public  meeting,  which  some  of 
his  best  friends  found  fault  with,  on  the  ground,  it  would 
seem,  that  it  was  extreme  in  statement,  and  bordering  on 
vulgarity  in  tone.  Thus  he  replies  :  — 

To  Miss  Stevenson. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  Sept.  30,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  HANNAH,  —  I  wrote  the  within  letter  immediately 
on  reading  yours.  Since  then,  two  days  have  passed ;  and  I 
have  thought  the  matter  over  a  little  more  carefully ;  have 
looked  at  it  impersonally  as  a  matter  of  history.  It  seems 
quite  otherwise.  I  am  glad  it  is  done  ;  sorry  that  some  things 
I  meant  to  say  were  omitted,  —  things  that  would  have  made  no 
man  laugh,  but  all  men's  blood  curdle  with  horror  to  have  heard, 
—  things  that  would  have  rung  like  the  blows  of  a  battle-axe  on  a 
robber's  doorposts.  To  have  said  just  the  words  I  then  said,  at 
that  time,  may  do  me  no  honor :  I  looked  for  none,  want  none.  It 
may  cover  me  with  disgrace  :  I  care  not  for  that.  I  am  glad  I 
said  it ;  glad  I  said  it  just  so.  I  went  there  in  a  quite  unusual 
mood.  I  was  filled  with  indignation  at  the  mean,  base  spirit  (so 
it  seemed  to  me)  which  led  strong  men  to  halt,  to  say,  and  not  do. 
I  felt  that  I  could  eat  them  up,  and  spit  their  pitiful  ambition  out 
of  my  mouth.  I  have  little  patience  with  a  man  who  makes  a 
negro's  neck  a  stepping-stone  to  fame  and  power.  I  believe 
most  men  sincere.  I  never  ten  times  in  my  life  accused 
33 


386  THEODORE  PARKER. 

anybody  of  hypocrisy.  Then  I  felt  there  was  something  a 
good  deal  like  it,  not  only  in  the  Democrats  and  in  old 
Whigs,  but  where  I  had  not  looked  for  it  before.  I  felt  like  a 
Hebrew  prophet  towards  all  the  doughfaces,  new  school  as 
well  as  old.  I  am  glad  that  I  used  low  'words  for  scurrilous 
things;  glad  I  said  the  slaveholders  who  passed  political  anti- 
slavery  resolutions  were  "jolly  green."  I  wish  I  had  said,  that, 
though  "hell  was  paved  with  resolutions,"  the  antislavery  reso 
lutions  of  political  parties  at  the  North  were  too  thin,  insincere, 
and  hypocritical  to  be  allowed  a  permanent  lodgement  even  there. 
I  meant  to  say  that.  I  wish  I  had  said  what  I  thought  of  the 
heart  of  the  real  good  men  of  Massachusetts,  and  what  of  that 
for  which  the  demagogues  were  striving.  I  wish  I  had  taken 
up  the  Whig  party,  and  the  Democratic  party  too,  and  held  up 
their  words  and  their  deeds  in  the  light  of  God's  law,  making 
that  blaze  into  men's  minds,  and  be  reflected  upon  their  parties. 

If  a  man  called  that  "  a  rowdy  speech,"  it  was  because  he 
had  the  soul  of  a  rowdy ;  and,  if  fifty  men  said  so,  it  was 
because  there  were  fifty  so  ensouled,  so  animated.  I  don't 
want  to  blame  such  critics.  I  must  confess  the  fact,  I  have 
seldom  risen  so  high  as  that  night ;  never  thundered  and  light 
ened  into  such  an  atmosphere.  I  did  not  think  of  such  words  : 
they  came;  and  I  thank  God  for  it.  I  hope  I  may  never  have 
to  speak  so  again.  I  know  I  shall  not  often  ;  perhaps  never.  I 
know  how  unusual  the  strain  was.  If  a  man  had  told  me 
I  should  speak  so,  I  should  have  thought  it  impossible.  But  I 
did  greater  than  I  could  counsel ;  far  greater  than  I  knew.  My 
caprice,  my  personal  taste,  stood  in  the  background  ;  and  my 
nature  —  the  nature  of  mankind  —  and  honest  blood  spoke  in 
me,  through  me.  I  solemnly  think  now  that  I  spoke  more  and 
better  than  ever  before.  Good  judges  will  not  tell  you  so  ;  but 
if  another  man  had  done  as  I,  and  I  stood  there,  feeling  as  then 
I  felt,  /  would  tell  you  so. 

I  like  your  letter  much.  The  wounds  of  a  friend  I  will  bear 
thankfully,  and  keep  forever  the  blessed  scars  thereof.  Do  so 
always.  I  don't  want  to  wait  for  my  foes  to  tell  me  my  faults. 
You  have  an  insight,  a  depth  of  vision,  and  a  delicacy  of  soul, 
far  greater  than  I  ever  met  before,  and  can  help  me  more  than 
any  other  one.  Don't  treat  me  like  a  baby  or  a  g-i-r-1,  but  like 
a  man  that  loves  you  best  when  you  beat  him. 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  387 

The  letter  is  marked  "  Privatissime ; "  and  most  private 
it  should  have  been  and  was  kept  long  after  it  was  writ 
ten.  But  the  awful  illuminations  of  the  war  have  made 
the  most  fiery  words  look  pale ;  and  we  do  not  wonder 
now  at  speech  which  twenty-five  years  ago  seemed  exces 
sive,  but  which  history  has  proved  to  have  been  prophetic. 
The  speech  which  Providence  has  justified  needs  neither 
excuse  nor  concealment. 

Mr.  Parker  was  fond  of  formulas,  —  short,  pithy  state 
ments  of  principle,  which  could  be  easily  remembered, 
and  contained  food  for  meditation  long  and  close.  In 
religion,  he  summed  up  his  fundamental  doctrine  in  the 
three  points,  —  consciousness  of  the  infinite  God,  of  the  immor 
tal  life,  of  the  eternal  right.  These  came  over  as  faithfully 
in  the  Sunday  sermons  as  the  five  points  of  Calvinism 
in  a  Presbyterian  discourse.  In  politics,  his  compact 
definition  of  a  democracy,  as  "government  of  the  people, 
by  the  people,  for  the  people"  recurred  with  similar  con 
stancy.  So  in  the  antislavery  war  he  put  the  whole  case 
in  a  terse  form  which  neither  could  be  missed  nor  mis 
conceived  :  i.  Freedom  may  put  down  slavery  by  due 
course  of  law;  2.  Slavery  may  put  down  freedom  by  due 
course  of  law ;  3.  Slavery  and  freedom  may  draw  swords, 
and  fight.  These  propositions  appear  in  sermon,  speech, 
lecture,  letter,  with  tireless  iteration.  The  speaker  started 
from  them,  and  came  back  to  them  continually ;  develop 
ing,  illustrating,  demonstrating ;  accumulating  facts,  argu 
ments,  and  appeals  upon  them ;  using  the  latest  events 
and  the  freshest  incidents ;  but  making  these  strong 
formulas  stand  up  in  full  view  all  the  time,  so  as  to  keep 
the  grand  issues  steadfastly  in  mind.  The  stern  repetition 
of  the  alternatives,  accompanied  as  it  was  by  keen  criti 
cism  of  men  and  measures,  was  an  education  in  history 
and  in  ethics. 

He  had  an  instinct  for  men  as  for  principles,  and 
tested  them  with  singular  insight  and  success.  He  knew 


388  THEODORE  PARKER. 

a  proslavery  man  under  the  cunningest  disguise,  and 
detected  the  antislavery  disposition  "with  a  quick  eye, 
by  reason  of  the  moral  sympathy  which  felt  farther  than 
it  could  see.  His  letters  reveal  these  swift  glances  into 
the  characters  of  prominent  or  ambitious  men,  who  after 
ward,  in  almost  every  case,  justified  his  prophecy;  and 
he  was  ready  either  to  fan  or  to  tread  out  the  spark, 
according  as  it  promised  to  illumine,  or  threatened  to  con 
sume.  Let  who  would  be  faithless,  he  would  be  faithful. 
No  man  should  falter  for  lack  of  his  encouragement. 

To  Hon.  John  G.  Palfrey,  Washington,  D.C. 

BOSTON,  Dec.  i,  1847. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  took  the  liberty  the  other  day  to  send  you 
the  first  number  of  "  The  Massachusetts  Quarterly  Review,"  in 
which  you  will  find  a  scholarly  and  able  paper  on  the  condition 
of  Greece,  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Finlay.  I  did  not  intend  to 
bore  you  with  a  letter ;  but  you  force  me  to  that  yourself.  I  do 
not  write  for  your  sake,  but  my  own,  and  to  thank  you  most 
heartily  for  the  honest,  manly,  and  brave  course  you  have  pur 
sued  in  regard  to  Mr.  ,  unworthy  son  of  most  worthy 

sires.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  saying  it  to  you,  that  I 
have  looked  with  admiration  and  delight  at  your  whole  course 
of  late  years,  especially  at  the  manly  position  you  have  taken 
in  respect  of  the  matter  of  slavery.  I  know  what  conscience 
and  what  courage  it  demands  to  do  as  you  have  done  ;  but  per 
haps  you  do  not  know  what  conscience  and  courage  your  exam 
ple  is  ministering  to  younger  men. 

I  see  your  vote  censured  in  the  newspapers.  The  censure 
shows  what  degree  of  freedom  is  expected  of  a  politician  in  the 
Whig  party  as  well  as  the  Democratic.  I  should  count  such 
censure  as  the  highest  honor  such  men  could  confer.  How 
could  you  vote  for  Mr.  ?  with  what  expectation  of  jus 
tice  to  your  country  ?  While  I  read  the  censure  in  the 
newspapers,  I  hear  the  warmest  praise  of  your  vote  from  men 
whose  esteem  you  would  value  most  highly.  I  am  glad  it  falls 
to  the  lot  of  a  man  constitutionally  courageous  to  stand  up  in  the 
bear-garden  of  American  politics,  and  show  that  a  man  may  be 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  389 

in  politics,  and  yet  not  out  of  morals.  I  am  only  sorry  that  I  do 
not  live  in  Middlesex  to  lend  you  my  vote  when  needed  ;  though 
I  have  the  satisfaction  of  having  two  brothers  there  who  do  so. 
I  hope  you  will  have  abundant  satisfaction  for  your  conduct, 
which  certainly  is  not  less  than  heroic.  And  I  remain 
Yours  respectfully  and  gratefully, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  the  Same. 

JUNE  14,  1848. 

HONORED  AND  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  hate  to  trouble  so  busy  a 
man  as  you  are,  but  will  not  trouble  you  needlessly  with  apolo 
gies  or  a  long  letter.  I  intend,  on  the  25th  of  this  month, 
to  preach  on  the  Mexican  war ;  and  wish  to  know  how  much 
money  it  has  cost,  and  how  many  men  have  perished  on  the 
American  side  in  its  wickedness.  Of  course  I  know  the  official 
documents  accompanying  the  President's  message :  but  if  you 
can  send  me  any  more  information,  either  by  a  letter  or  a  docu 
ment,  you  will  help  me  much  ;  for  I  love  to  know  exactly  the 
truth.  If  the  President  has  issued  any  proclamation  of  peace,  I 
shall  be  glad  of  that,  as,  indeed,  of  a  copy  of  the  treaty  and  any 
thing  connected  with  that.  But  I  will  only  trouble  you  by  say 
ing  with  how  much  and  how  grateful  admiration  I  look  on  you 
and  your  services,  and  how  heartily  I  say,  God bless  you  / 
Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

Already  Mr.  Parker's  energy  in  the  antislavery  cause  had 
made  his  name  familiar  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  It  had 
even  reached  the  State  of  Georgia,  from  which  came  long 
letters,  first  of  rather  scornful  argument,  and  afterwards  of 
senseless  vituperation,  from  a  Mr.  Flournoy.  To  the  first 
Mr.  Parker  replied  in  the  following  letter,  which,  though 
printed  by  Mr.  Weiss  in  connection  with  Mr.  Flournoy's 
letter,  is  reprinted  here  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  would 
not  otherwise  know  how  patient  he  was  in  dealing  with 
even  irrational  people.  The  contents  of  the  correspond 
ent's  communication  may  be  gathered  from  Mr.  Parker's 
reply :  the  vulgarity  of  its  tone  is  best  left  to  imagination. 
33* 


390  THEODORE  PARKER. 


To  J.  y.  Flournoy,  Esg.,  Wellington  (near  Athens),  Ga. 

BOSTON,  Feb.  2,  1848. 

SIR,  —  Your  letter  of  January  last  has  just  come  to  hand ;  and 
I  hasten  to  reply.  I  thank  you  for  your  frankness,  and  will 
reply  as  plainly  and  openly  as  you  write  to  me.  You  need  not 
suppose  that  I  have  any  spite  against  the  slaveholders.  I  wish 
them  well,  not  less  than  their  slaves.  I  think  they  are  doing  a 
great  wrong  to  themselves,  to  their  slaves,  and  to  mankind.  I 
think  slaveholding  is  a  wrong  in  itself,  and  therefore  a  sin  ;  but 
I  cannot  say  that  this  or  that  particular  slaveholder  is  a  sinner 
because  he  holds  slaves.  I  know  what  sin  is  ;  God  only  who 
is  a  sinner.  I  hope  I  have  not  said  any  thing  harsh  in  my  letter, 
or  any  thing  not  true.  I  certainly  wrote  with  no  ill  feeling 
towards  any  one. 

You  seem  to  think  that  the  Old  Testament  and  New  Testa 
ment  are  just  alike  ;  that  Christianity  and  Judaism  are  therefore 
the  same :  so,  as  a  Christian,  you  appeal  to  the  Old  Testament 
for  your  authority  to  hold  slaves.  Now  look  a  little  at  the  mat 
ter,  and  see  the  difference  between  the  Old  Testament  and  the 
New  Testament.  The  Old  Testament  DEMANDS  circumcision, 
a  peculiar  priesthood,  the  sacrifice  of  certain  animals,  the  observ 
ance  of  certain  fast-days,  full-moon  days,  new-moon  days,  the 
seventh  day,  and  the  like :  it  demands  them  all  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord.  Yet  you  do  not  observe  any  of  them.  Now,  you  say, 
I  suppose,  that  the  ritual  laws  of  the  Old  Testament  came  from 
God,  but  were  repealed  by  Christ,  who  also  spoke  by  the  com 
mand  of  God.  If  that  were  so,  then  it  would  appear  that  God 
had  repealed  his  own  commands.  You  say  God  could  not 
change :  so  I  say.  I  do  not  think  God  ever  makes  laws,  and 
then  changes  them.  But  if  the  Bible  as  a  whole,  as  you  say,  is 
the  word  of  God,  then  it  is  plain,  that,  in  the  New  Testament,  he 
takes  back  what  he  commanded  in  the  Old  Testament.  In  the 
Old  Testament  a  man  is  allowed  to  put  away  his  wife  for  any 
cause,  or  none  at  all ;  but  you  know  that  Christ  said  Moses  gave 
that  command  on  account  of  the  hardness  of  men's  hearts.  In 
Exod.  xxxv.  2,  3,  it  is  forbidden  to  kindle  a  fire  on  Saturday 
(sabbath),  on  pain  of  death.  In  Num.  xv.  32,  36,  it  is  said 
the  Lord  commanded  a  man  to  be  stoned  to  death  because  he 
picked  up  sticks  on  Saturday.  Yet  I  suppose  you  have  a  fire  in 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  391 

your  house  Saturday,  and  Sunday  too ;  and  perhaps  would  not 
think  it  wicked  to  bring  in  an  armful  of  wood  to  make  a  fire  on 
either  of  those  days.  Now,  I  do  not  think  God  changes  :  there 
fore  I  don't  believe  he  ever  uttered  those  dreadful  commands  in 
the  Old  Testament.  I  believe  that  God  has  the  attributes  of 
universal  justice  and  universal  love.  Doubtless  you  will  call  me 
an  "infidel ;  "  but  that  makes  no  odds.  I  try  to  be  a  Christian, 
but  do  not  begin  by  discarding  conscience,  reason,  and  com 
mon  sense.  I  think  St.  Paul  was  a  Christian ;  and  you  know 
what  he  says  about  the  law  —  that  is,  the  law  of  Moses  —  in 
the  Old  Testament. 

Now  let  us  look  at  the  case  of  the  negroes.  You  think  the 
children  of  Ham  are  under  a  perpetual  curse,  and  that  the 
negroes  are  the  children  of  Ham.  The  tenth  chapter  of  Gene 
sis  treats  of  the  descendants  of  Ham ;  but  it  does  not  mention 
among  them  a  single  tribe  of  negroes.  I  don't  think  the  writer  of 
that  account  knew  even  of  the  existence  of  the  peculiar  race  of 
men  that  we  call  negroes.  He  mentions  the  Egyptians,  it  is  true, 
and  other  North- African  people  ;  but  it  is  well  known  that  they 
were  not  negroes.  But  even  if  some  of  the  descendants  of  Ham 
were  negroes,  —  though  it  is  plain  from  Gen.  x.  they  were 
not,  — still  that  does  not  bring  them  under  the  curse  of  Noah; 
for  Noah  does  not  curse  Ham  and  all  his  children,  but  only 
Canaan.  Now,  the  descendants  of  Canaan  are  mentioned  in 
Gen.  x.  15-19.  Not  one  of  them  was  ever  an  African  people: 
they  all  dwelt  in  the  western  part  of  Asia,  and  were  the  nations 
with  whom  the  Hebrews  were  often  at  war.  The  Hebrews  con 
quered  many  of  these  tribes,  seized  their  country,  and  often 
their  persons.  Many  of  them  fled,  and,  I  think,  settled  in  North 
Africa  :  the  Berbers,  and  in  part  the  Moors,  are  of  that  race, 
perhaps  ;  but  none  of  them  are  negroes. 

But,  even  if  the  negroes  were  the  children  of  Canaan,  —  as  it  is 
plain  they  were  not,  —  what  title  could  you  make  out  to  hold  them 
by  ?  It  would  be  thus  :  Four  thousand  years  ago,  Noah  cursed 
Canaan  ;  and  therefore  you  hold  one  of  Canaan's  children  as  a 
slave.  Now,  do  you  think  a  man  has  power  to  curse  so  far  off  as 
that  ?  But  you  will  say  God  gave  the  curse  :  well,  the  Bible  does 
not  say  so.  You  say  Canaan  and  his  posterity  were  "  constitu 
tionally  unworthy  ; "  but  you  don't  know  that :  on  the  contrary, 
the  Sidonians,  who  were  the  descendants  of  Canaan,  were  a  very 


392  THEODORE  PARKER. 

illustrious  people  of  antiquity,  a  good  deal  like  the  English  and 
Americans  at  this  day,  and  actually  held  great  quantities  of  the 
Jews  in  slavery. 

Before  you  can  hold  a  single  negro  under  that  clause  in  Gen. 
ix.  25,  you  must  make  out,  i.  That  the  negro  is  descended 
from  Canaan  ;  2.  That  the  curse  was  actually  uttered  as  related  ; 
3.  That  it  denounces  personal  slavery  for  more  than  four  thou 
sand  years  ;  4.  That  the  curse  was  authorized  by  God  himself. 
Now,  there  is  not  one  of  these  four  propositions  which  ever  has 
been  made  out,  or  ever  can  be. 

My  dear  sir,  I  am  really  surprised  that  an  intelligent  man  in 
the  nineteeth  century,  a  Christian  man,  a  republican  of  Georgia, 
could  seriously  rely  a  moment  on  such  an  argument  as  that. 
Fie  on  such  solemn  trifling  about  matters  so  important  as  the 
life  of  two  or  three  millions  of  men !  For  my  own  part,  I  don't 
believe  the  story  of  Noah  cursing  his  grandson  for  the  father's 
fault.  I  think  it  all  a  Jewish  story  got  up  to  justify  the  hatred 
which  the  Jews  felt  against  the  Canaanites. 

I  know  Bryant's  book  and  Faber's,  but  never  use  either  now- 
a-days.  Bryant  had  more  fancy  than  philosophy,  it  always 
seemed  to  me.  I  may  be  as  "  confident  "  as  you  think  me,  but 
don't  call  myself  a  learned  man ;  though  I  have  read  about  all 
the  valuable  works  ever  written  on  that  matter  of  Noah's 
curse. 

You  ask  me  if  I  could  not  propose  some  good  to  be  done  to 
the  slaves  now.  Certainly:  their  marriage  and  family-rights 
might  be  made  secure,  their  work  easier,  their  food  and  clothing 
better  ;  they  might  not  be  beaten  ;  pains  might  be  taken  to  edu 
cate  them.  But  all  this  is  very  little,  so  long  as  you  keep  the 
man  from  his  natural  liberty.  You  would  not  be  happy  if  a 
slave ;  would  not  think  it  RIGHT  for  a  Christian  man  to  hold  you 
in  bondage,  even  if  one  of  your  ancestors  but  fifty  years  ago 
had  cursed  you,  still  less  if  four  thousand  years  ago.  If  I  were 
a  slaveholder,  I  would  do  this :  I  would  say,  "  Come,  now,  you 
are  free  :  go  to  work,  and  I  will  pay  you  what  you  can  earn." 
I  think  in  ten  years'  time  you  would  be  a  richer  man,  and  in 
two  hours'  time  a  far  happier  one,  a  more  Christian  one. 

Dear  sir,  Christianity  does  not  consist  in  believing  stories  in 
the  Old  Testament  about  Noah's  curse,  and  all  that,  but  in  lov 
ing  your  brother  as  yourself,  and  God  with  your  whole  heart. 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  393 

Do  not  think  that  I  covet  your  slaves.  No  consideration  would 
induce  me  to  become  a  slaveholder.  /  should  be  a  SINNER 
(though  God  grant  that  you  are  not  one  !)  for  that  act.  Let  me 
ask  you,  While  you  take  from  a  man  his  liberty,  his  person,  do 
you  not  'violate  this  command,  "  Thou  shalt  not  covet  any  thing 
that  is  thy  neighbor's  "  ?  Do  you  not  break  the  Golden  Rule,  — 
"  Whatsoever  you  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you,  do  ye 
even  so  unto  them  "  ? 

I  do  not  think  you  feel  easy  about  this  matter.  What 
you  say  about  colonization  convinces  me  that  you  do  not 
believe  slavery  is  a  Christian  institution  ;  that  you  are  not  very 
angry  with  me,  after  all.  Do  not  think  that  I  assume  any  airs 
of  superiority  over  you  because  I  am  not  a  slaveholder.  I 
have  never  had  that  temptation.  Perhaps,  if  born  in  Georgia,  I 
should  not  have  seen  the  evil  and  the  sin  of  slaver}'.  I  may 
be  blind  to  a  thousand  evils  and  sins  at  home  which  I  commit 
myself  :  if  so,  I  will  thank  you  to  point  them  out.  I  hope  you 
will  write  me  again  as  frankly  as  before.  I  wish  I  could  see 
Este's  book.  I  will  look  for  it,  and  study  it ;  for  I  am  working 
for  the  truth  and  the  right.  I  have  nothing  to  gain  personally 
by  the  abolition  of  slavery  ;  and  have,  by  opposing  that  institu 
tion,  got  nothing  but  a  bad  name.  I  shall  not  count  you  my 
enemy,  but  am 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 
J.  J.  FLOURNOY,  Esq. 

To  John  P.  Hale. 

BOSTON,  Feb.  22,  1848. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  writing  you  this 
note.  I  would  not  trouble  you  with  it  if  I  did  not  feel  obliged 
to  bear  my  testimony  to  you.  The  slight  acquaintance  I  had 
with  you  certainly  would  not  justify  me  in  writing  this  letter. 
But  a  spirit  higher  than  conventional  politeness  compels  me. 
Your  recent  vote  in  the  Senate  is  so  noble  and  heroic,  that  I 
cannot  be  silent.  I  must  thank  you  for  it :  I  do  so  in  my  own 
name.  In  the  name  of  many  who  will  not  write  the  gratitude 
they  feel,  and  in  the  name  of  mankind,  I  thank  you.  Certainly 
you  have  raised  my  opinion  of  the  human  race,  when  I  see  you 
vote  in  a  minority  of  one.  To  stand  alone  in  such  a  case  is 
to  stand  nobly,  left  alone  in  the  glory,  but  least  alone  when  all 


394  THEODORE  PARKER. 

alone.  Such  conduct  is  worthy  of  the  best  men,  of  the  most 
heroic  ages,  of  the  best  nations.  It  does  not  require  much 
courage  to  stand  up  at  Thermopylae  or  Bunker  Hill ;  not  half  so 
much  as  to  stand  up  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  and 
say  you  went  there  to  stand  alone.  Accept,  dear  sir,  my  most 
hearty  thanks,  and  believe  me 

Respectfully  yours,  &c., 

THEO.  PARKER. 
Hon.  JOHN  P.  HALE. 

To  Hon.  Horace  Mann. 

BOSTON,  Nov.  14,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  It  is  time  to  go  to  bed ;  but  I  cannot  go  to 
sleep  without  thanking  you  for  the  noble  work  you  have  done 
to-night,  ©f  the  magnificence  and  eloquence  in  thought  and  in 
speech  I  shall  not  stop  to  speak  :  they  were  the  smaller  beauties 
of  your  sermon.  I  must  thank  you  for  the  magnificent  morality 
you  set  before  those  young  men.  I  think  I  can  appreciate  the 
heroism  it  required  to  do  so,  and  speak  as  you  have  spoken, 
on  such  an  occasion,  in  such  a  presence,  where  your  words 
must  seem  personal  to  many ;  no,  not  to  many,  but  to  a  few. 
I  know  well  enough,  and  you  know  much  more  and  better  than 
I,  how  your  oration  will  be  received  by  the  men  who  are 
looked  upon  as  models,  but  whose  business  it  exposed,  and 
whose  littleness  it  scathed  with  terrible  fire.  But  there  were 
many  true  hearts,  in  bosoms  younger  than  mine,  which  beat 
with  yours,  and  echoed  back  your  words. 

I  have  often  been  thankful  that  you  are  in  Congress,  —  one 
faithful  man,  not  a  slave  to  the  instinct  for  office  more  than  a 
slave  to  the  instinct  for  gold,  but  a  representative  of  the  in 
stinct  for  justice  and  for  truth.  There  is  one  that  will  long 
be  grateful  to  you  for  such  words  as  you  have  spoken  to-night, 
and  the  life  which  made  them,  not  words,  but  deeds.  I  beg  you 
to  accept  my  most  hearty  thanks,  and  believe  me 
Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

At  this  stage  of  the  conflict,  Mr.  Parker,  so  far  from  re 
laxing  his  literary  efforts,  increased  them  in  a  way  to  tax 
the  strength  of  a  strong  and  leisurely  man.  His  lecturing 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  395 

engagements  were  making  severe  drain  on  his  time.  His 
visitors  were  augmenting  in  number  and  urgency.  The 
reading  of  many  books  went  on  inexorably.  In  addition 
to  this,  he  undertook  the  co-editorship,  in  connection  with 
R.  W.  Emerson  and  J.  E.  Cabot,  of  "  The  Massachusetts 
Quarterly  Review,"  which  was  designed  as  an  organ  for 
the  manly  discussion  of  the  momentous  questions  in 
science,  politics,  philosophy,  morals,  and  theology,  that 
interested,  or  were  about  to  interest,  or  were  worthy  of 
interesting,  the  American  people.  He  hoped  much  from 
such  a  journal,  and  tried  to  induce  the  ablest  men  in  the 
country  to  engage  in  it.  He  wanted  "  a  tremendous  journal, 
with  ability  in  its  arms,  and  piety  in  its  heart;"  a  journal 
that  "would,  ist,  Strike  a  salutary  terror  into  all  the  ultra- 
montanists,  and  make  them  see  that  they  did  not  live  in 
the  middle  ages ;  that  they  are  not  to  be  let  alone,  dream 
ing  of  the  garden  of  Eden,  but  are  to  buckle  up  and 
work ;  2d,  Would  spread  abroad  the  ideas  which  now  wait 
to  be  organized,  some  in  letters,  some  in  art,  some  in  in 
stitutions  and  practical  life." 

To  secure  a  suitable  editor  was  the  prime  concern. 
"We  don't  want  a  man  of  the  middle  ages,  but  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  for  our  work.  I  have  written  a  letter 
to  Emerson,  asking  him  to  undertake  the  matter.  If  he 
will,  it  will  succeed.  He  is  the  better  man,  if  he  will  take 
hold.  He  is  a  downright  man:  we  never  had  such  a  jewel 
in  America  before.  I  think  him  worth  two  or  three  of 
Dr.  Channing."  Fearing  that  Emerson  would  decline,  as 
he  did,  he  wrote  to  Charles  Sumner :  "  It  has  been  de 
cided  in  the  council  of  the  gods  that  you  must  undertake 
the  business  of  conducting  a  new  review:  therefore,  O 
mortal !  there  is  nothing  for  you  to  do  but  to  set  about  the 
appointed  work."  But  neither  was  Mr.  Sumner  obtain 
able  ;  and  practically  the  charge  devolved  on  Mr.  Parker. 

The  contributors  were  another  anxiety.  He  must  have 
the  best  young  men  of  culture  and  energy,  if  possible ;  at 


396  THEODORE  PARKER. 

all  events,  the  most  competent  men.  He  solicits  political 
articles  from  John  P.  Hale ;  and  bespeaks  a  special  paper 
from  him,  for  the  first  number,  on  the  Annexation  of 
Texas,  and  the  Mexican  War.  Work  is  planned  out  far 
in  advance,  as  was  his  custom.  The  journal  has  a 
schedule  of  contents  for  three  or  four  numbers  after  the 
first.  The  first  was  already  issued,  on  the  ist  of  De 
cember,  1847. 

No.  II. 

1.  Cabot  vs.  Mill.  —  Hildreth  on  Slavery. 

2.  Ward  on  Art. 

3.  James  on  Swedenborg. 

4.  Female  Education. 

5.  Howe  on  Prison  Discipline.  —  Nichols  on  Ireland. 

6.  Wilkinson  on  Central  New  York. 

7.  Literary  Notices. 

No.  III. 

1.  Schwegler.  —  T.  P. 

2.  Exploring  Expedition. 

3.  Hornitz  on  Chinese  Literature. 

4.  Furness  on  Landor. 

5.  Cabot  on  Wheaton. 

6.  Papineau    on     Canada.  —  Desor    on     Squiers.  —  Cheap 

Postage.  —  Barnabas  Bates.  —  Carlyle. 

No.  IV. 

1.  Baur  on  the  Gospels.  —  T.  P. 

2.  Lieber  on  Humboldt  (I.). 

3.  Pantaleone  on  Pius  IX. 

4.  Andrew  on  Thirtieth  Congress. 

5.  Theodore  Parker  on  Dr.  Charming. 

6.  George   Lee   on  the  East  (Howe  will  write  to  him).—- 

Mesmerism. 

No.  V. 

1.  Theology  in  Germany.  —  T.  P. 

2.  Lieber  on  Humboldt  (II.). 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  397 

But  to  propose  is  one  thing :  to  dispose  is  another.  The 
writers  he  had  in  view  did  not  all  meet  his  expectations. 
Others  came  up  whom  he  had  not  thought  of ;  but  few. 
The  labor  of  all  kinds  fell  chiefly  on  himself.  He  did  all 
that  he  promised,  and  a  great  deal  more.  In  addition 
to  the  work  laid  out,  he  wrote  a  powerful  article  on  "  The 
Political  Destination  of  America,"  biographical  papers 
on  John  Quincy  Adams,  a  careful  estimate  of  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson's  writings,  and  an  exhaustive  review 
of  Mr.  Prescott's  histories,  which  stirred  up  the  wrath 
in  "select  circles."  None  of  his  reviews  were  done 
on  Sydney  Smith's  rule,  —  of  writing  before  reading  the 
book,  in  order  to  avoid  prejudice ;  but  this  one  was 
finished  with  more  than  even  his  usual  care.  Every  thing 
bearing  on  the  subjects  treated  of  was  read,  —  all  the  con 
temporary  history,  every  accessible  public  document  (in 
the  original  tongue)  relating  to  the  times  under  examina 
tion,  military  and  naval  statistics,  financial  reports.  The 
article  was  not  complimentary  to  Mr.  Prescott  as  an  histo 
rian.  One  wonders  how  the  reviewer  could  have  sent  it  to 
him  with  compliments :  one  wonders  not  that  the  histo 
rian  should  have  responded  by  expressing  a  hope  that  the 
public  would  give  the  same  reception  to  his  criticism  that 
it  gave  to  his  theology.  In  noticing  the  reviewer's  consci 
entiousness  towards  his  authors,  it  is  worth  while  to  notice 
the  editor's  conscientiousness  towards  his  contributors,  — 
not  too  common  a  virtue  with  his  tribe. 

WEST  ROXBURY,  June  20,  1848. 

DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  like  your  paper  much,  and  will  put  it 
among  the  critical  notices  ;  only  I  have  added  a  paragraph  at 
the  end.  If  you  don't  like  that,  you  can  strike  it  out ;  for  I  will 
send  you  a  "  proof."  The  matter  lies  in  a  nutshell.  The  social- 
compact  men  think  a  State  can  make  any  law  it  sees  fit ;  mean 
ing  by  the  State  the  people,  or,  more  commonly,  the  bourgeoisie. 
Here  is  their  error.  They  forget  that  a  State  has  no  right  to  en 
act  wrong.  Their  opponents  think  a  government  is  divine.  It 
34 


398  THEODORE  PARKER. 

may  be  the  Devil's  government :  so  long  as  it  keeps  its  legs,  it 
is  my  duty  to  obey-  it. 

I  suppose  you  never  read  Hobbes,  nor  Mr.  Robert  Filmer,  nor 
Locke's  "  Treatise  of  Civil  Government."  If  you  should,  you 
would  see  that  Vinton  writes  in  the  interest  of  tyrants,  and  not 
of  mankind.  He  thinks  you  must  depend  on  the  government, 
not  it  on  you  ;  that  you  must  be  ruled  by  an  external  authority, 
and  he  knows  nothing  higher  or  better :  so  he  wants  an  authori 
ty  in  Church  and  in  State.  Now,  I  would  as  soon  trust  to  the 
social-compact  men  as  to  St.  Paul ;  for  he  says  the  powers  that 
be  are  ordained  of  God.  The  power  at  that  time  was  Nero.  I 
doubt  the  correctness  of  your  exegesis  of  the  verse.  I  think 
you  have  not  sufficiently  attended  to  the  historical  fact,  that 
Paul  was  writing  to  a  set  of  fanatical  men  at  Rome,  who 
thought,  that,  inasmuch  as  their  Messiah  had  come,  they  were 
set  free  from  all  obligation  to  keep  any  social  laws  which  he  had 
not  imposed.  I  don't  believe  that  Paul  at  this  day  would  lay 
down  such  a  general  thesis  as  that ;  but  he  did  lay  it  down,  it 
seems  to  me ;  and  surely  that  text  has  been  a  scripture  for 
despotism  ever  since. 

This  is  the  sum  of  the  matter.  Rights  and  duties  are 
anterior  to  all  laws  or  institutions,  and  always  superior  to  them. 
Rights  and  duties  are  directly  from  God ;  while  laws  are  only 
mediately  divine.  I  wish  Vinton  had  said  that ;  but  I  don't 
believe  he  could,  and  know  he  did  not  mean  to  in  the  sermon. 

I  shall  like  to  exchange  with  you  some  time  in  October. 
Now  my  house  is  shut  up  in  town,  and  I  live  here. 

Yours  heartily, 
T.  W.  HIGGINSON. 

"  The  Quarterly  "  lived  but  three  years  :  thanks  to  him 
that  it  lived  so  long.  The  public  was  not  prepared  for 
any  thing  so  thorough  or  so  advanced.  Competent  and 
willing  contributors  were  too  few ;  and  the  political  urgency 
was  pressing  too  hotly  to  allow  the  requisite  leisure  to  the 
chief  editor.  The  year  1850 — the  year  of  the  Fugitive- 
slave  Bill  —  had  come,  and  all  superfluities  must  be 
dropped.  The  decks  must  be  cleared  for  immediate 
action.  Daniel  Webster,  the  potentate  of  Whig  public 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  399 

opinion  in  Massachusetts,  delivered  on  the  yth  of  March 
the  speech  that  forever  sealed  his  doom,  and  devoted  the 
spring  and  summer  to  prodigious  efforts  to  persuade  the 
men  of  New  England  to  "  overcome  their  prejudices "  in 
favor  of  freedom.  On  the  i8th  of  September  the  bill  was 
passed,  and  sent  to  the  President  for  approval.  The 
acting  President,  Millard  Fillmore,  a  tool  in  the  hands  of 
the  slave  power,  signed  it  without  hesitation,  on  the  advice 
of  Attorney-General  Crittenden,  a  citizen  of  a  slave  State. 

It  was  but  a  virulent  revival  of  an  old  scheme.  A 
fugitive-slave  enactment  had  been  passed  in  1793;  and 
under  it,  in  1842,  George  Latimer,  a  slave,  was  arrested  in 
Boston.  "The  Latimer  Journal,"  a  revolutionary  sheet, 
was  published  at  this  time  by  Dr.  H.  I.  Bowditch,  assist 
ed  by  leading  antislavery  writers,  Mr.  Parker  being  one. 
What  was  probably  his  first  antislavery  article,  in  the  form 
of  an  Eastern  allegory,  appeared  in  this  journal.  Dr.  Bow- 
ditch,  F.  S.  Cabot,  and  William  F.  Channing,  as  the  Lati 
mer  Committee,  obtained  64,526  names  in  Massachusetts 
to  a  petition  for  a  personal-liberty  bill,  which  was  granted 
by  the  legislature.  This  was  subsequent  to  Larimer's  re 
lease,  and  intended  as  a  guard  against  similar  attempts  at 
kidnapping.  Some  years  prior  to  1850,  a  Vigilance  Com 
mittee  was  appointed  at  a  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  called 
on  occasion  of  the  kidnapping  of  a  slave  in  Boston  har 
bor.  John  Quincy  Adams  presided  over  the  meeting. 
The  leading  antislavery  men  of  the  day  were  among  the 
members  of  this  committee,  whose  numbers  were  subse 
quently  greatly  enlarged.  Mr.  Parker  was  a  member  of 
the  executive  committee,  and,  it  is  said,  initiated  much  of 
its  action. 

The  new  law  struck  dismay  into  the  hearts  of  the 
blacks  who  had  been  living  peacefully  in  the  Middle  and 
New-England  States.  The  slave-hunters  leaped  over  the 
border,  and  prowled  about  in  Northern  cities  in  search  of 
prey.  Ignorant,  brutal,  crafty,  insolent,  they  snatched 


400  THEODORE  PARKER. 

what  they  could  reach,  and  laid  snares  for  men  and  wo 
men  as  superior  to  them  in  all  human  qualities  of  intelli 
gence,  industry,  fidelity,  and  courage,  as  they  were  supe 
rior  to  Bushmen.  When,  a  few  weeks  ago,  William  Craft 
sat  in  my  parlor,  talking  over  his  scheme  for  an  industrial 
school  in  Georgia  with  the  air  of  one  accustomed  to  good 
society,  speaking  admirable  English,  and  showing  a  com 
plete  acquaintance  with  all  the  conditions  of  his  undertak 
ing,  it  was  hard  to  believe  that  he  had  been  pursued  as  a 
runaway  by  a  miserable  creature  who  spelt  "  early  "  eirly, 
"wait"  wate,  "wife"  wif,  "know"  no,  and  "engaged" 
inguage.  But  so  it  was.  The  government  decreed  the 
"  Christians  to  the  lions ; "  and  the  lions  did  after  their 
kind.  The  agony  and  the  terror  were  supreme.  Free 
persons  were  not  safe,  even  such  as  never  had  been  slaves. 
A  black  man  was  a  black  man :  his  color  was  a  badge  of 
servitude,  a  prima-fade  evidence  of  chattelhood.  If  he 
could  produce  free  papers,  and  get  a  commissioner  to  ap 
prove  them,  all  was  well ;  but  the  commissioner  was  usually 
a  creature  of  the  government,  and  too  ready  to  construe 
appearances  against  the  victim.  The  hunters'  success 
was  naturally  greatest  in  the  border  States ;  greatest  of 
any  in  Pennsylvania:  but  the  best  game  was  farther 
north  ;  and  thither  the  sleuthhounds  sped.  It  is  impossi 
ble  to  tell  how  many  were  carried  off  or  seized  altogether, 
—  no  small  number,  certainly:  but  for  the  vigilance  of 
the  antislavery  people,  it  would  have  been  very  large. 

The  old  Vigilance  Committee  was  on  the  alert ;  and 
branch  committees  were  formed,  wherever  there  was  dan 
ger,  to  warn  the  blacks,  conceal  them,  expedite  their  es 
cape  if  practicable,  stand  by  them  with  legal  aid  if  ar 
rested,  rescue  them  from  the  clutch  of  the  pursuers  by 
guile  or  force  if  other  means  failed. 

A  spy  in  the  United-States  marshal's  office  reported 
the  probable  issue  of  warrants ;  and  rewards  were  paid  for 
timely  information  of  the  official  movements.  The  com- 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  401 

mittee  were  prepared  to  resist  the  execution  of  the  law  to 
the  very  verge  of  civil  outbreak,  but  not  to  go  beyond. 
Their  policy  was  to  induce  claimants  and  witnesses,  by 
persuasions  or  threats,  to  leave  the  city ;  to  expel  the  slave- 
hunters  by  all  means  short  of  deadly  assault :  and  in  the 
pursuit  of  this  policy  they  had  need  of  courage  as  well  as 
discretion ;  for  the  infuriated  blacks  more  than  once  plot 
ted  the  assassination  of  their  pursuers. 

In  Boston  the  panic  was  fearful ;  for  Boston,  as  being 
the  hot-bed  of  abolitionism,  was  the  asylum  of  the  fugi 
tive.  Decisive  measures  were  taken  for  meeting  the 
emergency.  Meetings  were  called,  lists  of  fugitives  were 
made,  names  of  citizens  were  enrolled,  organizations  were 
effected.  A  printed  list  of  this  Boston  Committee  of 
Vigilance  is  before  me:  it  numbers  one  hundred  and 
sixty-three  names.  They  rose  in  a  short  time  to  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty.  The  first  name  on  the  executive  commit 
tee  was  Theodore  Parker.  Associated  with  him  were  Wen 
dell  Phillips,  S.  G.  Howe,  Edmund  Jackson,  Charles  M. 
Ellis,  Charles  K.  Whipple.  When  a  special  committee 
was  appointed  to  act  in  sudden  emergencies,  Theodore 
Parker  was  made  its  chairman.  His  whole  soul,  at  this 
time,  was  on  fire.  He  was  ready  for  any  and  all  work,  — 
to  draw  up  resolutions,  to  write  placards,  to  counsel,  or  to 
act.  Here  is  his  account  of  the  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall 
to  express  the  popular  feeling  in  regard  to  the  bill.  It  is 
given  in  a  letter  to  Miss  Stevenson,  dated  the  i4th  of 
October. 

"You  will  wish  to  hear  about  the  meeting  last  night  It  was 
a  very  good  one.  Phillips  and  Apthorp  went  down  with  me  at 
half-past  six.  The  galleries  were  crowded  then.  At  seven 
there  were  three  or  four  thousand  in  the  hall.  None  of  the 
respectability  were  there,  or  but  few  of  them  ;  none  of  '  our 
family.'  C.  F.  Adams  presided  ;  read  a  neat  little  speech. 
Dr.  Lowell  opened  the  services  with  a  touching  prayer,  which 
carried  the  hearts  of  the  audience  to  heaven.  It  was  not  non- 
34* 


402  THEODORE  PARKER. 

committal,  not  respectable  and  pharisaic.  Douglas  spoke,  not 
very  well,  but  only  long.  However,  the  moderation  of  his  tone, 
the  facts  he  related,  and  his  wit,  made  it  effective  on  a  part  of 
the  audience.  Then  came  a  long  letter  from  Old  Quincy,  not 
interesting  except  from  its  authorship.  Then  Wendell  spoke, 
and  never  better.  He  was  received  with  great  applause,  cheered 
continually,  but  once  hissed  a  little  when  he  said  that  Winthrop 
Lad  voted  right  in  '  a  temporary  spasm  of  liberty?  He  said 
nothing  about  disunion  or  of  hostility  to  the  Constitution.  Then 
followed  a  Mr.  Briggs  of  Ohio,  —  a  tonguey  fellow,  who  told  some 
anecdotes,  but  made  little  sensation.  He  is  a  low  stump-orator 
apparently ;  but  said,  wisely  enough,  that  the  audience  would 
probably  like  best  to  hear  Boston  men,  and  sat  down.  Then  I 
said  a  few  words  ;  told  the  people  a  few  stories  about  the  feel 
ing  and  perils  of  the  blacks  now  ;  and  put  several  cases,  asking 
them  what  they  would  do  if  the  marshal  tried  to  carry  off  a  man 
adjudged  to  be  a  slave.  They  answered  well,  and  promised  to 
go  with  only  the  arms  their  mothers  gave  them,  and  rescue  the 
slave.  I  asked  them  to  thank  Winthrop  for  his  course  in  the 

Senate  ;   and  to  give  Mr.  E ,  not  their  hate,  &c.,  but  their 

PITY  ;  which  they  did.  Then  Remond  spoke ;  then  Douglas 
again,  saying  that  the  directors  of  the  Albany  and  Syracuse  Rail 
road  had  forbidden  their  agents  to  take  any  slave  on  their  road 
in  the  hands  of  the  officers,  but  to  put  him  and  the  officers  out 
of  the  cars,  and  to  do  their  best  to  set  the  slave  free.  Then 
we  passed  the  resolutions,  —  pretty  good  ones  too.  Then 
Colver  spoke,  and  interrupted  the  resolutions  by  adding,  that, 
'  law  or  no  law,  Constitution  or  no  Constitution,  we  will  never 
let  a  fugitive  slave  be  carried  back  from  Boston.'  That,  also, 

was  put ;  and  then,  at  five  minutes  before  eleven,  just  as  Mr. 

was  coming  forward  with  a  resolution  on  the  habeas  corpus,  I 
suppose,  all  adjourned." 

The  above  is  but  a  tame  account  of  a  most  extraordi 
nary  meeting.  The  packed  hall  was  charged  with  feeling 
to  which  the  speakers,  all  but  Phillips  and  Parker,  failed 
to  give  expression.  Douglas's  great  ship  labored  heavily 
in  the  stormy  sea.  Lesser  barks  could  not  live  in  it  a  few 
moments,  but  quickly  put  back  to  harbor.  The  strongest 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  403 

sentiments  were  most  tumultuously  applauded.  If  the 
slaveholders  had  been  there,  they  would  at  once  have 
abandoned  all  idea  of  carrying  out  their  purpose. 

They  were  not  there,  and  they  ventured. 

The  excitement  in  Boston  centred  in  four  cases.  The 
first  touched  Parker  nearly.  William  and  Ellen  Craft 
were  fugitive  slaves  of  the  higher  order,  from  Macon, 
Ga.  He  was  a  joiner,  and  hired  himself  of  his  owner 
—  "a  very  pious  man,"  " an  excellent  Christian "  — 
for  about  two  hundred  dollars  a  year.  He  and  his  wife 
had  cherished  for  years  the  plan  of  escape.  Having 
saved  a  little  money,  they  bought,  piece  by  piece,  of  dif 
ferent  dealers,  at  different  times,  by  stealth,  a  suit  of  gen 
tleman's  clothes.  These  Ellen  put  on.  William  attended 
her  as  her  servant ;  and  so  they  escaped.  They  lived  in 
Boston,  he  working  at  his  trade.  Parker  had  known  them 
ever  since  their  coming.  They  were  parishioners  of  his, 
respectable,  orderly,  estimable  people.  Returning  home 
from  Plymouth  late  in  the  afternoon  of  Oct.  25,  Parker 
learned  that  the  slave-hunters  were  on  their  track,  —  one, 
Hughes  or  Hews,  the  jailer  at  Macon ;  another,  Knight, 
who  knew  Craft  as  a  tradesman  formerly,  and  accompa 
nied  Hughes  as  a  witness.  Their  lodgings  were  at  the 
United-States  Hotel.  The  Vigilance  Committee  was  on 
their  watch.  Craft  was  warned,  and  was  not  to  be  caught 
by  his  old  friend's  polite  invitation  to  show  him  the  sights 
of  Boston,  and  visit  him  with  his  "  wif "  at  the  hotel. 
Ellen  was  secreted  at  a  friendly  house.  William  con 
sented,  unwillingly,  to  hide  at  the  "  South  End,"  —  to  be 
smuggled  there  in  a  carriage  ;  but  presently,  and  hav 
ing  armed  himself,  preferred  to  go  about  his  business, 
and  take  care  of  himself  after  his  own  fashion.  He  told 
a  police-officer  that  he  would  rather  be  drawn  and  quar 
tered  than  be  carried  back  into  slavery.  The  hunters  had 
no  easy  task.  Judge  Woodbury,  a  Democrat,  having  issued 
warrants  of  arrest  against  Craft  and  his  wife,  they  brought  a 


404  THEODORE  PARKER. 

suit  against  the  kidnappers  for  defamation  of  character  \ 
they  having  charged  him  with  being  a  thief,  in  that  he  stole 
the  clothes  he  wore,  as  well  as  his  own  person,  when  he 
ran  away.  The  writs  were  served,  and  the  arrests  were 
made  amid  no  little  confusion,  the  crowd  gathering,  and 
muttering  ominous  threats  against  the  "  slave-hunters." 
On  the  way  to  the  sheriff's  office,  Knight  declared  with 
emphasis  that  he  had  come  for  William  and  Ellen  Craft, 
and  nobody  else  ;  "  and,  damn  'em  !  I'll  have  them  if  I  stay 
here  to  all  eternity ;  and,  if  there  are  not  men  enough  in 
Massachusetts  to  take  them,  I  will  bring  some  from  the 
South.  It  is  not  the  niggers  I  care  about;  but  it's  the 
principle  of  the  tiling"  The  judge  demanded  bail  in  ten 
thousand  dollars,  that  being  the  amount  of  damages  laid. 
There  were  men  in  Boston  to  give  it.  Who  they  were 
is  not  known ;  but  two  persons  who  were  known  to  be 
intense  negro-haters  —  one  a  pettifogger,  who  had  ex 
pressed  a  willingness  to  see  all  negroes  hanged  ;  the  other 
a  packet-agent,  who,  four  years  previous,  when  the  United- 
States  Government  gave  no  such  permission,  had  sent  back 
a  wretched  fugitive  who  had  concealed  himself  in  the  brig 
"  Ottoman  "  from  New  Orleans,  and  was  discovered  almost 
famished  when  the  voyage  was  about  ended — were  on 
hand,  and  the  prisoners  were  released.  Knight  slipped 
out  at  the  back-door,  to  the  disappointment  of  the  crowd, 
which  had  prepared  for  him  an  honest  welcome.  As 
Hughes  entered  the  carriage  which  drove  him  away  from 
the  scene,  a  negro  jumped  up  behind,  dashed  in  the  glass, 
and  would  have  shot  the  wretch,  had  not  one  of  the  com 
mittee  dragged  him  down.  The  carnage  was  chased  a 
long  distance,  till  it  was  out  of  town. 

The  Committee  of  Vigilance  instantly  held  a  meeting, 
and  took  new  precautions.  A  poster  was  issued,  describ 
ing  the  slave-hunters  in  graphic  and  thrilling  language, 
such  as  was  wont  to  proceed,  on  occasion,  from  the  min 
ister  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Congregational  Society.  The 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  405 

men  were  watched.  Parker  urged  the  appointment  of  a 
committee  to  attend  them  all  day,  keeping  them  in  view 
from  morning  till  night :  he  was  ready  to  take  his  turn. 
The  pastor  does  not  neglect  his  parishioners.  He  goes  to 
Brookline,  to  Mr.  Ellis  Gray  Loring's,  to  cheer  Ellen ;  to 
Louis  Hayden's,  to  advise  William.  "I  inspected  his 
arms,  —  a  good  revolver  with  six  caps  on,  a  large  pistol,  two 
small  ones,  a  large  dirk,  and  a  short  one :  all  was  right." 
On  the  very  day  of  the  bond-giving,  the  committee  met, 
and  voted  to  visit  en  masse,  at  six  o'clock  the  next  morn 
ing,  the  United-States  Hotel,  where  Knight  and  Hughes 
were  staying.  At  the  hour  appointed,  about  sixty  gentle 
men  were  on  the  spot,  filling  the  hall-ways,  avowing  their 
purpose  to  watch  the  kidnappers.  Mr.  Parker  knew  their 
room,  and,  taking  with  him  a  companion,  ascended  the 
stairs,  stationed  himself  as  a  sentry  at  the  door,  and  paced 
solemnly  up  and  down  ;  he  and  his  comrade  gravely  pass 
ing  one  another  in  the  corridor.  This  continued  for  some 
minutes ;  when  the  landlord,  excited,  came,  and  insisted 
that  they  should  withdraw.  Mr.  Parker  refused  to  leave 
his  post  without  assurance  of  seeing  the  men  he  sought. 
The  landlord  promised  them  an  interview  in  the  parlor,  and 
consented  —  readily  enough,  it  is  likely  —  to  rid  his  house 
of  such  obnoxious  guests.  The  interview  was  held  ;  Mr. 
Parker  speaking  for  the  committee.  He  addressed  them  as 
their  sincere  friend,  who  came  in  the  cause  of  peace,  and 
to  secure  their  safety  from  the  populace.  He  had  not 
stirred  up  the  excitement.  The  indignation  was  sponta 
neous,  natural,  and  deep,  and  could  not  be  allayed  while 
they  remained  in  Boston.  He  represented  to  them  the 
extreme  personal  danger  in  which  they  stood,  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  their  undertaking ;  and  counselled  them, 
for  their  own  sake,  to  leave  town  at  once.  Knight  blus 
tered,  and  Hughes  complained ;  but  both  the  men  were  a 
good  deal  frightened,  and  took  the  P.M.  train  for  New 
York.  It  was  time ;  for  indignation  was  waxing  hot.  Their 


406  THEODORE  PARKER. 

persons  were  Known  :  they  could  not  leave  the  hotel  un 
molested  by  street-boys,  who  bestowed  on  them  unsavory 
names,  and  required  no  urging  to  bestow  unsavory  things. 
Had  they  staid  longer,  there  might  have  been  bloodshed  ; 
for  the  President,  so  it  was  rumored,  talked  of  sending 
soldiers  to  dragoon  the  Bostoriians  into  their  duty. 

The  hunters  being  gone,  the  Crafts  determined  to  go 
to  England,  and  requested  their  minister  to  marry  them  by 
legal  form  before  they  went.  A  certificate  was  obtained 
according  to  the  new  law  of  Massachusetts ;  and,  at  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of  Nov.  7,  the  ceremony  was 
performed  at  a  colored  boarding-house  in  the  city.  Be 
fore  the  ceremony,  the  minister,  as  was  his  custom,  ad 
dressed  a  few  pertinent  remarks  to  the  couple,  who  now, 
for  the  first  time,  entered  into  the  bands  of  Christian  wed 
lock.  He  said  to  them  first  what  he  usually  said  to  bride 
grooms  and  brides.  Then  he  spoke  to  Mr.  Craft  of  his 
peculiar  duties.  He  was  an  outlaw.  No  law  protected 
his  liberty  in  the  United  States :  for  that  he  must  depend 
on. the  public  opinion  of  Boston  and  on  himself.  If  at 
tacked  by  one  wishing  to  return  him  to  slavery,  he  had  a 
right,  a  natural  right,  to  resist  the  man  unto  death.  For 
himself,  he  might  refuse,  if  he  saw  fit,  to  exercise  the 
right :  but  his  wife  depended  on  him  for  protection  •  and 
to  protect  her  was  a  duty  he  could  not  decline.  "  So  I 
charged  him,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  to  defend  the 
life  and  liberty  of  his  wife  against  any  slaveholder,  at 
all  hazards."  The  marriage-rite  was  then  performed. 
The  occasion  prompted  the  prayer.  A  Bible  lay  on  one 
table  ;  on  another  a  "  bowie-knife,"  placed  there  by  some 
person  unknown  to  Mr.  Parker.  He  saw  them  when  he 
came  in,  and,  the  ceremony  being  ended,  took  the  book, 
placed  it  in  the  man's  left  hand,  and  charged  him  to  use 
its  noble  truths  for  the  salvation  of  his  own  soul  and  his 
wife's  soul.  This  done,  he  took  the  knife,  placed  it  in 
the  man's  right  hand  with  words  of  equal  pertinency,  and 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  407 

charged  him  to  use  it  only  in  the  last  extremity ;  to  bear 
no  harsh  or  revengeful  feelings  against  those  who  once 
held  him  in  bondage,  or  such  as  sought  to  make  him  and 
his  wife  slaves  even  now :  "  Nay,  if  you  cannot  use  the 
sword  in  defence  of  your  wife's  liberty  without  hating  the 
man  you  strike,  then  your  action  will  not  be  without  sin." 
The  fugitives  left  the  country,  bearing  the  following  let 
ter-missive  from  their  pastor  to  his  brother-minister  in 
Liverpool,  James  Martineau:  — 

To  Rev.  Mr.  Martineau. 

BOSTON,  Nov.  n,  1850. 

DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  take  this  opportunity  to  write  you  a  brief 
note  to  interest  you  in  a  couple  of  my  parishioners  who  are 
about  to  visit  England  under  quite  remarkable  circumstances. 
They  are  two  fugitive  slaves,  —  William  Craft  and  his  wife  Ellen 
Craft.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  their  story  :  if  you  have  not, 
you  will,  before  long,  learn  of  their  wonderful  flight  from  Macon 
in  Georgia  to  Philadelphia,  —  a  distance  of  more  than  nine  hun 
dred  miles  through  the  enemy's  country.  The  Fugitive-slave 
Law  was  passed  last  September.  It  is  one  of  the  most  atro 
cious  acts  ever  passed  since  the  first  persecution  of  the  Chris 
tians  by  Nero.  It  allows  the  owner  to  come  to  Boston,  or  send 
his  agent ;  apply  to  a  commissioner  of  the  United  States,  who 
may  be  a  miserable  tool  of  government,  and  probably  will  be 
(certainly  he  often  is,  and  we  have  one  loathsome  commissioner 
in  Boston,  if  no  more) ;  and  decide  that  a  certain  man  is  his 
slave.  The  commissioner  gives  the  slave-hunter  a  warrant  to 
seize  the  slave,  and  transport  him  back  to  bondage.  The  slave- 
hunter  takes  it  to  the  marshal ;  the  marshal  makes  the  seizure ; 
and  the  poor  victim  is  hurried  off  to  slavery  as  hopeless  as  the 
grave.  All  this  may  be  done  without  allowing  the  fugitive  to 
defend  himself  ;  with  no  inquest  by  a  jury  ;  without  the  fugitive 
ever  seeing  his  hunter  till  he  comes  with  the  marshal  to  put 
handcuffs  on  his  wrists. 

The  Crafts  have  been  in  Boston  nearly  two  years  ;  are  sober 
and  industrious  people.  She  is  a  seamstress  :  he  is  a  cabinet 
maker.  They  are  members  of  my  parish.  But,  a  few  weeks 
ago,  there  came  a  ruffian  from  Macon  in  Georgia,  by  the  name 


408  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  Hughes,  —  he  is  a  jailer  at  home,  —  with  authority  to  seize 
and  carry  off  the  two  fugitives.  He  applied  to  the  proper  offi 
cer,  got  his  warrant,  and  secured  the  services  of  the  marshal. 
All  was  ready  for  the  seizure  ;  but  William  armed  himself  with 
two  revolvers  and  a  substantial  dirk,  and  was  ready  to  kill  any 
one  who  should  attempt  to  kidnap  him.  His  wife  was  concealed 
by  some  friends,  who  kept  her  safe  and  sound.  I  will  tell  you 
more  of  her  concealment  at  some  future  time  ;  but  it  is  not  safe 
now. 

The  slave-hunters  remained  in  Boston  more  than  a  week. 
There  was  a  "  vigilance  committee  "  appointed  by  a  meeting  of 
citizens  ;  and  they  kept  the  slave-hunters  in  a  state  of  disturb 
ance  all  the  time  they  remained  here,  and  finally  frightened  them 
so,  that  they  were  glad  to  sneak  out  of  the  city.  After  the 
danger  was  over,  Craft's  friends  thought  it  was  wiser  for  them 
to  go  to  England,  that  you  may  see  what  sort  of  men  and  women 
we  make  slaves  of  in  "  the  model  republic."  They  need  no 
pecuniary  aid  ;  but  if  you  will  tell  their  story  to  your  friends,  ?nd 
draw  public  attention  to  the  fact  that  such  persons  are  not  safe 
in  Boston,  you  may  help  the  great  cause  of  humanity  in  a  new 
mode.  .  .  . 

I  keep  in  my  study  two  trophies  of  the  American  Revolution : 
one  is  a  musket  which  my  grandfather  fought  with  at  the  battle 
of  Lexington  (April  19,  1775)  against  the  "British  ;"  the  other 
is  a  great  gun  which  he  captured  in  that  battle.  He  was  the 
captain  of  the  Lexington  soldiers,  and  took  the  first  prisoner, 
and  the  first  musket  taken  in  war  for  independence  and  the 
rights  of  man.  But  now  I  am  obliged  to  look  to  "  the  British  " 
for  protection  for  the  liberty  of  two  of  my  own  parishioners 
who  have  committed  no  wrong  against  any  one.  Well,  so  it  is  ; 
and  I  thank  God  that  Old  England,  with  all  her  sins  and 
shames,  allows  no  slave-hunter  to  set  foot  on  her  soil. 

I  have  written  you  a  long  letter,  when  I  intended  to  write  only 
a  short  note.  I  am  glad  to  learn  from  my  friend  Sargent  what 
a  pleasant  time  he  had  with  you  in  North  Wales  and  elsewhere. 
I  wish  I  had  been  of  the  party.  Remember  me  kindly  to  Mrs. 
Martineau  and  the  children.  I  know  not  how  many  there  are 
now  ;  but  there  was  a  houseful  of  them  once.  Give  my  kindest 
regards  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thorn.  I  wish  you  would  show  him 
this  letter  ;  for  I  think  his  great  heart  will  be  interested  in  the 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  409 

case  of  these  poor    fugitives.     With    many  and    affectionate 
regards,  believe  me 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

If  any  are  disposed  to  think  the  scene  of  the  wedding 
above  described  theatrical,  the  accompaniments  stagey,  and 
the  speech  bombastic,  —  the  whole  performance  in  need 
lessly  bad  taste,  —  let  them  read,  in  connection  with  the 
letter  to  Mr.  Martineau,  the  following  to  President  Millard 
Fillmore,  written  two  weeks  after  the  transaction  in  Bos 
ton.  If  they  feel  on  reading  it  as  others  have  done,  they 
will  understand  how  the  act  and  the  manner  of  its  doing 
were  in  simplest  accordance  with  an  established  state  of 
mind ;  that  no  artificial  sentiment,  no  touch  of  the  mock- 
heroic,  entered  into  it ;  that  every  word  was  an  inevitable 
product  of  conviction.  Only  a  man  terribly  in  earnest 
could  even  meditate  such  a  writing,  as  only  a  man  terribly 
in  earnest  could  have  done  such  a  deed. 

To  Millard  Fillmore t  Esq.,  Washington. 

BOSTON,  Nov.  21,  1850. 

HONORED  SIR,  —  This  letter  is  one  which  requires  only  time 
to  read  :  I  cannot  expect  you  to  reply  to  it.  I  am  myself  a 
clergyman  in  this  city,  —  not  one  of  those,  unfortunately,  who 
are  much  respected  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  I  have  an  ill  name,  and 
am  one  of  the  most  odious  men  in  this  State  :  no  man  out  of  the 
political  arena  is  so  much  hated  in  Massachusetts  as  myself. 
/  think  this  hatred  is  chargeable  only  to  certain  opinions  which 
I  entertain  relative  to  theology  and  to  morals.  Still  I  think  I 
have  never  been  accused  of  wanting  reverence  for  God,  or  love 
for  man ;  of  disregard  to  truth  and  to  justice.  I  say  all  this 
by  way  of  preface  ;  for  I  need  not  suppose  you  know  any  thing 
of  me. 

I  have  a  large  religious  society  in  this  town,  composed  of  "  all 

sorts  and  conditions  of  men,"  —  fugitive   slaves   who  do  not 

legally  own  the  nails  on  their  fingers,  and  cannot  read  the  Lord's 

Prayer  ;  and  also  men  and  women  of  wealth  and  fine  cultivation. 

35 


4iO  THEODORE  PARKER. 

1  wish  to  inform  you  of  the  difficulty  in  which  we  (the  church  and 
myself)  are  placed  by  the  new  Fugitive-slave  Law.  There  are 
several  £ugitive  slaves  in  the  society.  They  have  committed  no 
wrong :  they  have  the  same  "  inalienable  right  to  life,  liberty, 
and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,"  that  you  have.  They  naturally 
look  to  me  for  advice  in  their  affliction  :  they  are  strangers, 
and  ask  .ne  to  take  them  in  ;  hungry,  and  beg  me  to  feed  them  ; 
thirsty,  and  would  have  me  give  them  drink  ;  they  are  naked,  and 
look  to  me  for  clothing  ;  sick,  and  wish  me  to  visit  them  ;  yes, 
they  are  ready  to  perish,  and  ask  their  life  at  my  hands.  Even 
the  letter  of  the  most  Jewish  of  the  Gospels  makes  Christ  say, 
"  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  not  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these, 
ye  have  not  done  it  unto  me."  They  come  to  me  as  to  their 
Christian  minister,  and  ask  me  to  do  to  them  only  what  Christi 
anity  evidently  requires  :  they  wish  me  to  do  to  others  as  I 
would  have  others  do  to  me. 

But  your  law  will  punish  me  with  fine  of  a  thousand  dollars, 
and  imprisonment  for  six  months,  if  I  take  in  one  of  these 
strangers,  feed  and  clothe  these  naked  and  hungry  children  of 
want ;  nay,  if  I  visit  them  when  they  are  sick,  come  unto  them 
when  they  are  in  prison,  or  help  them,  "  directly  or  indirectly," 
when  they  are  ready  to  perish.  Suppose  I  should  refuse  to  do  for 
them  what  Christianity  demands  :  I  will  not  say  what  I  should 
think  of  myself,  but  what  you  would  say.  You  would  say  I  was 
a  scoundrel  j  that  I  was  really  an  infidel  (my  theological  breth 
ren  call  me  so) ;  that  I  deserved  a  jail  for  six  years  :  you  would 
say  right.  But,  if  I  do  as  you  must  know  that  I  ought,  then 
your  law  strips  me  of  my  property,  tears  me  from  my  wife,  and 
shuts  me  in  a  jail.  Perhaps  I  do  not  value  the  obligations  of 
religion  so  much  as  my  opponents  of  another  faith  ;  but  I  must 
say  I  would  rather  lie  all  my  life  in  a  jail,  and  starve  there,  than 
refuse  to  protect  one  of  these  parishioners  of  mine.  Do  not  call 
me  a  fanatic  ;  I  am  a  cool  and  sober  man  :  but  /  must  rever 
ence  the  laws  of  God,  come  of  that  ivhat  will  come.  I  must  be 
true  to  my  religion. 

I  send  you  a  little  sermon  of  mine  (see  p.  36).  You  will  find 
the  story  of  a  fugitive  slave  whom  I  have  known.  He  is  now  in 
Quebec,  in  the  service  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  citizens  of 
that  city.  He  is  a  descendant  of  one  of  our  Revolutionary  gen 
erals.  Members  of  my  society  aided  him  in  his  flight ;  others 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  411 

concealed  him,  and  helped  him  to  freedom.  Can  you  think  they 
did  wrong  ?  Can  you  think  of  the  Declaration  of  Independ 
ence,  of  its  self-evident  truths,  can  you  think  of  Christi 
anity,  and  then  blame  these  men  ?  The  Hungarians  found 
much  natural  sympathy  all  over  the  United  States,  though 
some  men  in  Boston  took  sides  with  Austria  ;  the  nation  is 
ready  to  receive  Kossuth  :  but  what  is  Austrian  tyranny  to  slave 
ry  in  America  ?  The  Emperor  of  Turkey  has  the  thanks  of 
all  the  liberal  governments  of  Europe  for  hiding  the  outcasts  of 
Hungary;  and  can  you  blame  these  for  starting  "Joseph,"  and 
helping  him  to  Canada  ?  I  know  it  is  not  possible. 

William  Craft  and  Ellen  were  parishioners  of  mine.  They 
have  been  at  my  house.  I  married  them  a  fortnight  ago  this 
day.  After  the  ceremony,  I  put  a  Bible,  and  then  a  sword,  into 
William's  hands,  and  told  him  the  use  of  each.  When  the 
slave-hunters  were  here,  suppose  I  had  helped  the  man  to  es 
cape  out  of  their  hands  ;  suppose  I  had  taken  the  woman  to  my 
own  house,  and  sheltered  her  there  till  the  storm  had  passed  by : 
should  you  think  I  did  a  thing  worthy  of  fine  and  imprison 
ment  ?  If  I  took  all  peaceful  measures  to  thwart  the  kidnappers 
(legal  kidnappers)  of  their  prey,  would  that  be  a  thing  for  pun 
ishment  ?  You  cannot  think  that  I  am  to  stand  by  and  see  my 
own  church  carried  off  to  slavery,  and  do  nothing  to  hinder 
such  a  wrong. 

There  hang  beside  me  in  my  library,  as  I  write,  the  gun  my 
grandfather  fought  with  at  the  battle  of  Lexington,  —  he  was  a 
captain  on  that  occasion,  —  and  also  the  musket  he  captured 
from  a  British  soldier  on  that  day,  —  the  first  taken  in  the  war 
for  independence.  If  I  would  not  peril  my  property,  my  liberty, 
nay,  my  life,  to.  keep  my  own  parishioners  out  of  slavery,  then 
I  would  throw  away  these  trophies,  and  should  think  I  was  the 
son  of  some  coward,  and  not  a  brave  man's  child.  There  are 
many  who  think  as  I  do  about  this  ;  many  that  say  it :  most 
of  the  men  I  preach  to  are  of  this  way  of  thinking.  (Yet  one  of 
these  bailed  Hughes,  the  slave-hunter  from  Georgia,  out  of 
prison.)  There  is  a  minister  who  preaches  to  the  richest 
church  in  Boston  :  he  is  a  New- Hampshire  man,  and  writes 
as  any  New-Hampshire  politician.  He  has  been  impolitely 
called  the  "  spaniel  of  King's  Chapel,"  —  an  amiable,  inof 
fensive  man.  But  even  he  says  he  "would  conceal  a  fugitive." 


412  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Not  five  of  the  eighty  Protestant  ministers  of  Boston  would 
refuse.  1  only  write  to  you  to  remind  you  of  the  difficulties  in 
our  way.  If  need  is,  we  will  suffer  any  penalties  you  may  put 
upon  us ;  but  WE  MUST  KEEP  THE  LAW  OF  GOD.  I  beg  you 
to  excuse  this  letter;  and,  with  many  good  wishes  for  your  pros 
perity,  believe  me 

Your  obedient  servant, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  Committee  of  Vigilance  was  not  allowed  to  slum 
ber.  The  slave-hunters  were  still  abroad.  In  less  than 
three  months,  the  excitement  was  renewed  by  another  case 
of  arrest.  The  fugitive  Shadrach  was  seized,  and  shut 
up  in  the  United-States  court-room,  on  Feb.  15,  1851. 
The  next  day  (Sunday)  the  prayers  of  all  the  ministers 
and  congregations  were  requested  for  his  deliverance. 
They  were  answered  before  they  were  put  up.  Mr.  Par 
ker  went  to  Court  Square  immediately  on  hearing  of  the 
arrest,  "  intending  to  make  a  rescue  if  possible  ; "  but  the 
rescue  had  already  been  effected.  The  commissioner  had 
adjourned  the  case ;  the  crowd  had  left  the  court-room ; 
the  building  was  closed ;  the  guarded  prisoner  remained 
inside.  An  importunate  member  of  the  Vigilance  Com 
mittee  beat  upon  the  door  till  it  was  opened  to  him  ;  the 
crowd  pushed  in ;  and  in  a  moment,  before  the  bewildered 
officers  could  recover  themselves,  the  man  was  lifted  up 
in  the  arms  of  his  friends,  and  borne  away.  There  was 
no  noise  or  excitement :  but  the  rush  of  the  rescuers  was 
too  tremendous  to  be  resisted  by  any  but  military  force ; 
and  that  would  have  been  dangerous,  for  preparations  for 
armed  resistance  had  been  made.  An  attempt  at  rescue 
would  have  been  hopeless,  even  had  there  been  time  ;  but 
there  was  no  time.  That  very  afternoon  the  man  was 
hurried  off  on  his  way  to  Canada,  and  saved.  Mr.  Par 
ker  wrote  in  his  diary,  "  I  think  it  the  most  noble  deed 
done  in  Boston  since  the  destruction  of  the  tea  in  1773. 
I  thank  God  for  it." 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  413 

On  the  Sunday,  in  addition  to  preaching  in  the  morn 
ing,  lecturing  in  the  afternoon  on  i  Cor.  iv.-vii.,  making 
visits,  writing  notes  for  a  meeting  of  the  Executive  (Vigi 
lance)  Committee,  and  attending  the  meeting,  he  wrote 
a  poster  describing  the  slaveholders  then  in  the  city.  It 
could  not  have  been  the  following,  doubtless  from  the 
same  hand,  but  bearing  date  the  4th  of  April ;  but  this 
will  serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  bills  that  were  put  up  in 
those  fearful  times  :  — 

PROCLAMATION. 

TO  ALL  THE  GOOD  PEOPLE  OF  MASSACHUSETTS. 

Be  it  known  that  there  are  now  THREE  SLAVE-HUNTERS,  OR 
KIDNAPPERS,  IN  BOSTON,  looking  for  their  prey.  One  of  them 
is  called 

DAVIS. 

He  is  an  unusually  ill-looking  fellow,  about  five  feet  eight  inches 
high,  wide-shouldered.  He  has  a  big  mouth,  black  hair,  and  a 
good  deal  of  dirty,  bushy  hair  on  the  lower  part  of  his  face. 
He  has  a  Roman  nose.  One  of  his  eyes  has  been  knocked  out. 
He  looks  like  a  pirate,  and  knows  how  to  be  a  stealer  of  men. 
The  next  is  called 

EDWARD  BARRETT. 

He  is  about  five  feet  six  inches  high,  thin  and  lank  ;  is  appar 
ently  about  thirty  years  old.  His  nose  turns  up  a  little.  He 
has  a  long  mouth,  long,  thin  ears,  and  dark  eyes.  His  hair  is 
dark ;  and  he  has  a  bunch  of  fur  on  his  chin.  He  had  on  a  blue 
frock  with  a  velvet  collar,  mixed  pants,  and  a  figured  vest.  He 
wears  his  shirt-collar  turned  down,  and  has  a  black  string  — 
not  of  hemp  —  about  his  neck. 
The  third  ruffian  is  named 

ROBERT  M.   BACON,   alias  JOHN  D.   BACON. 

He  is  about  fifty  years  old ;  five  feet  and  a  half  high.     He  has 
a  red,  intemperate-looking  face,  and  a    retreating    forehead. 
35* 


4I4  THEODORE  PARKER. 

His  hair  is  dark,  and  a  little  gray.  He  wears  a  black  coat, 
mixed  pants,  and  a  purplish  vest.  He  looks  sleepy,  and  yet 
malicious. 

Given  at  Boston  this  fourth  day  of  April,  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  1851,  and  of  the  independence  of  the  United 
States  the  fifty-fourth. 

God  save  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts  ! 

This  resolution  was  not  untouched  with  sadness.  His 
friends  the  Shaws  sail  for  Europe.  He  doubts  if  he 
ever  sees  them  again.  "For  I  must  not  let  a  fugitive 
slave  be  taken  from  Boston,  cost  what  it  may  justly  cost. 
I  will  not  (so  I  think  now)  use  weapons  to  rescue  a  man 
with ;  but  I  will  go  unarmed  when  there  is  a  reasonable 
chance  of  success,  and  make  the  rescue." 

From  the  Journal. 

Feb.  21,  1851. —  Continual  alarms  about  the  poor  fugitive 
slaves.  A  reported  arrest  of  a  new  one  ;  but  this  turned  out  to 
be  a  false  alarm. 

1.  The  case  of ,  who  concealed in  his  cellar  all  night. 

2.  Also  the  ,  who   came   and  gave   information   of   an 

attempt  about  to  be  made  on ;  and  he  escaped. 

3.  The  confession  which made  to about  the  inten 
tions  of  the and  the  provisions  he  made. 

4.  The  strategy  of  Mr. in  getting  information,  and  ho\v 

he  does  it. 

These  are  sad  times  to  live  in ;  but  I  shall  be  sorry  not  to 
have  lived  in  them.  It  will  seem  a  little  strange,  one  or  two 
hundred  years  hence,  that  a  plain,  humble  scholar  of  Boston 
was  continually  interrupted  in  his  studies,  and  could  not  write 
his  book,  for  stopping  to  look  after  fugitive  slaves,  —  his  own 
parishioners  / 

Saturday,  22d. — Washington's  birthday.  At  home,  and 
very  busy  with  fugitive-slave  matters. 

Sunday,  230!.  —  Sermon  618,  A.M.  Roxbury,  P.M.  I  have 
not  been  well  these  several  days. 

Monday,  24th.  —  At  Cambridge  most  of  the  day :  not  we1 
Writing  report  on  fugitive-slave  petitions  at  night. 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  415 

Tuesday,  25th. — At  home,  and  about  antislavery  business. 
P.M.  at  State  House  with  antislavery  committee.  Phillips, 
Sewall,  and  Ellis  spoke.  Vigilance  Committee  at  night. 

Wednesday,  26th.  —  Much  time  on  fugitive -slave  matters. 

The  third  great  slave  case,  that  of  Thomas  Sims,  ter 
minated  less  happily  than  Shadrach's,  and  caused  more 
excitement  afterwards  than  it  did  when  in  progress. 
Sims  was  arrested  on  the  night  of  April  3.  He  drew  a 
knife  on  the  officers,  and  was  arrested  as  a  disturber  of 
the  peace  ;  though  the  arrest  caused  the  disturbance.  The 
writ  of  habeas  corpus  was  refused  him.  He  never  saw 
a  jury;  but  once  a  judge.  The  commissioner,  George 
Ticknor  Curtis,  after  a  summary  examination,  gave  him 
up  to  his  pursuers.  The  poor  boy,  knowing  that  his  fate 
was  sealed,  begged  of  his  counsel  one  favor :  "  Give  me  a 
knife  ;  and,  when  the  commissioner  declares  me  a  slave,  I 
will  stab  myself  to  the  heart,  and  die  before  his  eyes.  I 
will  not  be  a  slave  !  "  Such  a  prayer  could  not  be  granted. 
At  the  dead  of  night,  the  mayor  of  Boston,  with  his 
marshal,  attended  by  two  or  three  hundred  policemen, 
armed  with  horse-pistols,  swords,  or  bludgeons,  at  con 
venience,  took  the  victim  from  his  cell,  chained,  weeping  ; 
marched  him  over  the  spot  which  the  blood  of  Attucks 
had  stained ;  put  him  on  board  "  The  Acorn ; "  and  sent 
him  off  to  endless  bondage.  "  And  this,"  said  the  miser 
able  negro  as  he  stepped  on  board,  "is  Massachusetts 
liberty  !  "  A  Boston  delegation  saw  him  duly  delivered  to 
his  owner,  who  had  him  whipped  in  the  town  jail  within  an 
inch  of  his  life.  This  was  on  the  historic  igth  of  April. 

Parker  bore  his  testimony  in  a  sermon  which  Charles 
Sumner  thanked  him  for,  saying  that  it  stirred  him  to  the 
bottom  of  his  heart;  at  times  softening  him  almost  to 
tears ;  then,  again,  filling  him  with  rage.  "  You  have  placed 
the  commissioner  in  an  immortal  pillory,  to  receive  the 
hootings  and  rotten  eggs  of  the  advancing  generations." 


41 6  THEODORE  PARKER. 


To  Hon.  Charles  Sumner. 

BOSTON,  April  19,  1851. 

DEAR  SUMNER,  —  I  wish  it  was  the  ipth  of  April,  1775,  on 
which  I  was  writing :  the  times  would  not  look  so  bad  for  Bos 
ton.  What  a  disgrace  has  the  city  brought  on  herself !  "  O 
Boston,  Boston,  thou  that  kidnappest  men  ! "  might  One  say 
now. 

I  never  had  any  confidence  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  Massa 
chusetts  in  case  the  Fugitive-slave  Law  came  before  it.  But 
think  of  old  stiff-necked  Lemuel  visibly  going  under  the 
chains  !  *  That  was  a  spectacle  !  But  it  all  works  well.  Thank 
you  for  your  kind  words  and  kind  judgments  of 

Truly  your  friend,  T.  P. 

The  event  that  could  not  be  prevented  had  to  be  com 
memorated.  To  the  feeling  it  excited  Charles  Sumner 
was  in  part  indebted  for  his  senatorial  election. 

In  May,  Mr.  Parker  had  the  curiosity  to  attend  the 
Berry-street  Conference,  —  a  meeting  at  which  Unitarian 
ministers  were  wont  to  commune  together  on  matters  that 
affected  their  theological  peace.  On  this  occasion  Rev. 
Samuel  J.  May  of  Syracuse  ventured  to  obtrude  the  vexed 
question  of  duty  in  regard  to  the  Fugitive-slave  Law.  It 
had  been  brought  up  at  the  business-meeting  of  the  Unita 
rian  Association,  and  was  refused  a  hearing.  On  Wednes 
day  it  was  brought  up  again  at  the  Ministerial  Conference, 
and  after  a  good  deal  of  discussion,  and  not  a  little  diplo 
macy,  was  made  the  subject  of  special  consideration  for  the 
next  day.  Even  on  Thursday  morning,  time  was  wasted 
in  idle  preliminaries,  as  if  with  the  purpose  of  preventing 
action.  The  social  position  of  the  city  ministers  made 
them  unsympathetic  with  the  brethren  from  the  country, 
who  looked  at  the  matter  with  a  more  single  eye,  and  were 

*  Chief  Justice  Lemuel  Shaw,  who  could  only  enter  his  court-room  by 
stooping  under  the  chain  which  was  stretched  round  the  building  to  keep  off 
the  people. 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  417 

sincerely  anxious  to  hear  what  the  great  authorities  of  the 
sect  had  to  say.  The  discussion  began  at  length,  in  the 
usual  indirect  and  inconsequential  manner,  by  a  brother 
from  New  York,  who  defended  Dr.  Orville  Dewey  against 
the  charge  of  having  said  publicly  that  he  would  send  his 
own  mother  back  to  slavery  if  it  was  necessary  to  preserve 
the  Union  :  questioning,  in  the  first  place,  the  accuracy  of 
the  report ;  in  the  next  place,  protesting  against  the  impu 
tation  of  "  worldly  motives  "  on  the  doctor's  part.  Next  a 
leading  minister  of  Boston  criticised  severely  the  senti 
ment  of  one  of  the  body, — that  the  Fugitive-slave  Law 
"  could  not  be  administered  with  a  pure  heart  or  unsullied 
conscience,"  contending  that  it  could ;  and  then  made 
two  points  justifying  obedience  to  the  law:  i.  That  to  dis 
obey  would  involve  disobedience  to  all  law.  We  must 
either  have  law  without  liberty,  or  liberty  without  law. 
Law  without  liberty  was  despotism :  liberty  without  law 
was  license.  Despotism  was  bad  ;  but  anarchy  was  worse. 
2.  Disobedience  to  the  Fugitive-slave  Law  involved  disso 
lution  of  the  Union  ;  and  with  the  Union  went  all  hope  of 
freedom  and  human  rights. 

Mr.  Parker  spoke  amid  a  silence  of  suppressed  discon 
tent.  He  regretted  that  years  ago  there  had  not  prevailed 
more  of  this  brotherly  spirit  which  refused  to  judge  men 
for  their  "opinions."  In  regard  to  the  main  question,  the 
consequence  of  obedience  or  disobedience  to  the  Fugitive- 
slave  Law,  he  affirmed  that  in  no  country  on  earth  was 
there  more  respect  for  law  than  in  New  England.  Disobe 
dience  is  unpopular  even  when  the  law  is.  Nowhere  were 
judges  more  respected  than  in  Massachusetts.  So  true  was 
all  this,  that  to  inform  against  one's  neighbor,  if  he  vio 
lated  the  law  of  the  land,  —  an  act  infamous  everywhere 
else,  —  was  commended,  for  the  reason  that  the  people 
made  the  laws  for  themselves,  were  represented  by  them, 
and  educated  by  them.  The  value  of  human  laws  is  to 
conserve  the  eternal  laws  of  God.  So  long  as  laws  did 


4i8  THEODORE  PARKER. 

this,  they  should  be  obeyed.  The  Fugitive-slave  Law 
did  the  opposite.  It  aspired  to  trample  on  the  law  of 
God.  It  commanded  what  nature,  religion,  and  God 
alike  forbade :  it  forbade  what  nature,  religion,  and  God 
alike  commanded.  Who  are  they  that  oppose  the  Fugi 
tive-slave  Law?  Men  who  have  always  been  on  the 
side  of  law  and  order,  and  whose  disobedience  is  one  of 
the  strongest  guaranties  of  just  law  and  equitable  order. 
You  cannot  trust  a  people  that  will  keep  law  because  it  is 
law:  you  cannot  distrust  a  people  that  will  keep  no 
law  but  what  is  just.  Obedience  to  the  Fugitive-slave 
Law  would  do  more  to  overturn  the  Union  than  all  disobe 
dience  to  it  the  most  complete. 

As  to  the  dissolution  of  the  Union,  if  any  State  wished 
to  go,  she  had  a  natural  right  to  go.  But  what  States 
wished  to  go  ?  Certainly  not  New  England.  Massachu 
setts  had  always  been  attached  to  the  Union  ;  had  adhered 
to  it  faithfully ;  had  made  sacrifices  for  it.  The  cry  of 
dissolution  was  vain  and  deceitful :  none  knew  that  so 
well  as  the  men  who  raised  it.  But  suppose  that  dis 
solution  were  the  alternative  of  disobedience :  which 
would  be  the  worse  ?  Is  the  Union  as  precious  as  con 
science,  freedom,  duty  ?  "  For  my  own  part,  I  would 
rather  see  my  own  house  burned  to  the  ground,  and  my 
family  thrown,  one  by  one,  amid  the  blazing  rafters  of  my 
own  roof,  and  myself  be  thrown  in  last  of  all,  than  have 
a  single  fugitive  slave  sent  back  as  Thomas  Sims  was 
sent  back :  nay,  I  would  rather  see  this  Union  dissolved 
till  there  was  not  a  territory  so  big  as  the  county  of  Suf 
folk.  Let  us  lose  every  thing  but  fidelity  to  God.  ...  I 
am  not  going  to  speak  honeyed  words,  or  prophesy  smooth 
things,  in  times  like  these,  —  our  court-house  a  barracoon, 
our  officers  slave-hunters,  members  of  our  Unitarian 
churches  kidnappers !  I  have  in  my  church  black  men, 
fugitive  slaves  :  they  are  the  crown  of  my  apostleship,  the 
seal  of  my  ministry.  It  becomes  me  to  look  after  their 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  419 

bodies,  to  save  their  souls.  I  have  been  obliged  to  take 
my  own  parishioners  into  my  house  to  keep  them  out  of 
the  clutches  of  the  kidnappers:  yes,  gentlemen,  I  have 
been  obliged  to  do  that,  and  to  keep  my  doors  guarded 
by  day  as  well  as  by  night.  I  have  had  to  arm  myself. 
I  have  written  my  sermons  with  a  pistol  in  my  desk, 
loaded,  with  a  cap  on  the  nipple,  ready  for  action ;  yes, 
with  a  drawn  sword  within  reach  of  my  right  hand,  —  this 
in  Boston,  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century !  I  am 
no  non-resistant :  that  nonsense  never  went  down  with 
me.  But  it  is  no  small  matter  that  would  compel  me  to 
shed  human  blood.  Still,  that  could  I  do.  I  was  born 
in  the  little  town  where  the  fight  and  bloodshed  of  the 
Revolution  began.  The  bones  of  the  men  who  first  fell 
in  that  war  are  covered  by  the  monument  at  Lexington. 
It  is  '  SACRED  TO  LIBERTY  AND  THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN 
KIND.'  This  is  the  first  inscription  I  ever  read.  These 
men  were  my  kindred.  My  grandfather  slew  the  first  man 
in  the  Revolution.  The  blood  which  flowed  then  is  kin 
dred  to  that  which  runs  in  my  veins  to-day.  Besides  that, 
when  I  write  in  my  library  at  home,  on  one  side  of  me 
is  the  Bible  which  my  fathers  prayed  over,  their  morning 
and  their  evening  prayer,  for  nearly  one  hundred  years : 
on  the  other  side  hangs  the  firelock  my  grandfather  fought 
with  in  the  old  French  war,  which  he  carried  at  the  taking 
of  Quebec,  which  he  used  at  the  battle  of  Lexington ; 
and  beside  it  is  another,  a  trophy  of  that  war,  —  the  first 
gun  taken  in  the  Revolution  ;  taken  by  my  grandfather. 
With  these  trophies  before  me,  these  memories  in  me,  when 
a  fugitive  from  slavery  came  to  my  house,  pursued  by  the 
kidnappers,  what  could  I  do  less  than  take  him  in,  and 
defend  him  to  the  last  ?  My  brother  justifies  the  Fugi 
tive-slave  Law ;  demands  obedience  to  it ;  calls  on  his 
parishioners  to  kidnap  mine,  and  sell  them  into  bondage 
forever.  He  is  a  '  Christian,'  and  I  am  an  '  infidel.' 
"  O  my  brothers  !  I  am  not  afraid  of  men  :  I  can  offend 


420  THEODORE  PARKER. 

them.  I  care  nothing  for  their  hate  or  their  esteem  ;  I  am 
not  very  careful  of  my  reputation :  but  I  dare  not  violate 
the  eternal  law  of  God.  You  have  called  me  'infidel.' 
Surely  I  differ  widely  enough  from  you  in  my  theology. 
But  there  is  one  thing  I  cannot  fail  to  trust :  that  is  the 
Infinite  God,  father  of  the  white  man,  and  father,  also, 
of  the  white  man's  slave.  I  should  not  dare  violate  his 
law,  come  what  would  come." 

For  two  months  the  journal  is  suspended.  He  opens  it 
again  with  the  hope,  that,  for  the  next  five  or  six  years,  he 
may  have  less  to  do  with  social,  civil,  and  political  duties, 
and  attend  to  his  function  as  scholar,  philosopher,  theo 
logian,  and  writer.  But  the  fates  forbade.  He  went  in 
his  vacation  to  hear  J.  F.  Clarke  preach  ;  but  was  called 
out,  the  sermon  just  begun,  on  antislavery  business.  The 
Fugitive-slave  Law  was  in  force  ;  though  the  attempts  to 
enforce  it  were  not,  for  the  moment,  active.  The  passage 
of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  revived  them ;  and  the  friends 
of  that  relaxed  no  effort  to  have  it  executed.  Daniel 
Webster,  who  had  declared  resistance  to,  and  even  de 
nunciation  of,  the  Fugitive-slave  Law,  to  be  "high  treason," 
died  at  Marshfield  in  October,  1852  ;  and  Parker  —  who 
had  glorified  him  from  his  childhood  up  to  the  fatal  ;th 
of  March,  when  the  mighty  man  turned  his  back  on  the 
fine  traditions  of  his  younger  days,  and  had  then  taken  his 
likeness  from  the  place  of  honor  where  it  stood,  kissed  it 
sadly,  and  put  it  away  where  it  could  not  be  seen  —  made 
the  grandest  of  his  pulpit  orations  on  the  false  statesman's 
character.  They  who  would  know  Mr.  Parker  should 
read  that  oration.  It  was,  as  has  been  said,  written 
literally  with  prayers  and  tears,  in  clearest  memory  of 
every  step  in  Webster's  career ;  with  judgment  clarified  by 
comparison  of  him  with  the  greatest  orators  of  the  race, 
and  confirmed  by  an  exact  estimate  of  his  deeds  and  op 
portunities  ;  with  conscience  quieted  by  the  contemplation 
of  nature,  and  exalted  by  meditation  on  the  eternal  law ; 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  421 

and  with  soul  touched  by  the  sorrows  and  needs  of  human 
ity.     There  is  an  awful  pathos  in  some  of  its  sentences. 

"  Mr.  Webster  stamped  his  foot,  and  broke  through  into  the 
great  hollow  of  practical  atheism  which  undergulfs  the  State  and 
Church.  The  firm-set  base  of  Northern  cities  quaked  and 
yawned  with  gaping  rents.  Penn's  'sandy  foundation'  shook 
again  ;  and  black  men  fled  from  the  city  of  brotherly  love,  as 
doves,  with  plaintive  cry,  flee  from  a  farmer's  barn  when  sum 
mer  lightning  stabs  the  roof.  There  was  a  twist  in  Faneuil 
Hall ;  and  the  doors  could  not  open  wide  enough  for  Liberty 
to  regain  her  ancient  cradle.  Only  soldiers,  greedy  'to  steal  a 
man,  themselves  stole  out  and  in.  Metropolitan  churches  toppled 
and  pitched,  and  canted  and  cracked.  Colleges,  broken  from 
the  chain  which  held  them  in  the  stream  of  time,  rushed  towards 
the  abysmal  rent.  Doctors  of  divinity,  orthodox,  heterodox, 
had  great  alacrity  in  sinking.  '  There  is  no  higher  law  of  God,' 
quoth  they  as  they  went  down ;  *  no  golden  rule ;  only  the 
statutes  of  men.' 

"  But  spite  of  all  this,  in  every  city,  in  every  town,  in  every 
college,  and  in  each  capsizing  church,  there  were  found  faithful 
men  who  feared  not  the  monster,  heeded  not  the  stamping.  In 
all  their  houses  there  was  light ;  and  the  destroying  angel  shook 
them  not.  The  Word  of  the  Lord  came  in  open  vision  to  their 
eye  :  they  had  their  lamps  trimmed  and  burning,  their  loins  girt ; 
they  stood  road-ready.  Liberty  and  religion  turned  in  •  thither  ; 
and  the  slave  found  bread  and  wings.  .  .  . 

"The  streets  are  hung  with  black;  the  newspapers  are  sad- 
colored  ;  the  shops  are  put  in  mourning ;  the  public  business 
stops  ;  and  flags  drop  half-mast  down.  The  courts  adjourn,  — 
even  at  Baltimore  and  Washington  the  courts  adjourn  ;  for  the 
great  lawyer  is  dead,  and  justice  must  wait  another  day.  Only 
the  United-States  Court  in  Boston,  trying  a  man  for  helping 
Shadrach  out  of  the  furnace  of  the  kidnappers,  —  the  court 
which  executes  the  Fugitive-slave  Bill,  —  that  does  not  adjourn  ; 
that  keeps  on :  its  worm  dies  not ;  and  the  fire  of  its  perse 
cution  is  not  quenched  when  death  puts  out  the  lamp  of  life." 

On  the  23d  of  May,  1854,  Charles  F.  Suttle  of  Virginia 
presented  to  Edward  Greely  Loring  of  Boston,  coinmis- 
36 


422  THEODORE  PARKER. 

sioner,  a  complaint  under  the  Fugitive-slave  Bill,  praying 
for  the  seizure  and  enslavement  of  Anthony  Burns.  The 
warrant  was  issued  the  next  day.  In  the  evening,  Burns 
was  arrested  on  the  false  pretext  of  burglary,  taken  to  the 
Suffolk-county  Court  House,  and  there  kept  under  an 
armed  guard.  On  the  25th  the  case  came  before  the  com 
missioner.  Burns  was  brought  in  guarded  and  ironed. 
The  claimant  presented  his  documents :  his  witnesses 
were  on  the  spot,  ready  to  testify ;  his  legal  counsel,  S.  J. 
Thomas  and  E.  G.  Parker,  were  ready  with  their  state 
ment.  The  commissioner  had  made  up  his  mind,  and  the 
case  seemed  in  a  good  train  to  be  "  summarily  "  disposed 
of ;  when  Theodore  Parker,  with  a  few  stanch  friends, 
made  his  way  into  the  court-room,  gained  speech  with 
the  prisoner,  ascertained  that  it  was  his  wish  to  be  heard, 
and  demanded  the  right  of  counsel.  Thereupon  Richard 
H.  Dana,  Esq.,  asked  that  counsel  be  assigned,  and  a 
defence  allowed ;  urging  the  point  so  strongly,  that  the 
commissioner  was  forced  to  yield.  The  hearing  was  post 
poned  till  ten  o'clock  of  May  27.  On  the  evening  of  the 
26th  —  the  mayor  and  aldermen  cheerfully  consenting,  the 
mayor  even  regretting  that  a  previous  engagement  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  preside  —  a  great  meeting  was 
held  at  Faneuil  Hall.  Samuel  G.  Howe  called  it  to  order  ; 
George  R.  Russell  presided  ;  Mr.  Parker,  Wendell  Phil 
lips,  and  others  made  speeches. 

The  meeting  had  a  general  and  a  special  object.  The 
general  object  was  to  excite  popular  indignation ;  the 
special  object,  to  aid  in  a  concerted  attempt  to  rescue 
Burns  by  an  overwhelming  and  sudden  attack  on  the 
Court  House.  The  plan  of  such  an  attack  had  been  dis 
cussed  in  committee,  and  had  been  voted  down  by  the 
majority,  who  thought  it  desperate.  Nevertheless,  the 
committee  allowed  the  friends  of  the  project  to  meet  in 
one  of  their  rooms  for  the  completion  of  their  plans. 
Mr.  Parker  favored  the  assault :  Mr.  Phillips,  it  is  thought. 
did  not. 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  423 

The  suppressed  excitement  at  the  meeting  was  intense ; 
and  nothing  occurred  to  allay  it.  The  resolutions  read 
by  Dr.  Howe,  the  speech  of  John  L.  Swift,  were  in  the 
interest  of  the  conspirators.  Wendell  Phillips  threw 
no  water  on  the  kindling  flame.  Mr.  Parker  took  the 
stand,  purposing  to  heat  the  audience  red-hot,  fuse  them 
together,  and,  at  a  given  signal,  to  hurl  them  into  Court 
Square.  He  was  a  powerful  platform-speaker,  responsive 
at  once  and  magnetic  ;  and,  on  this  occasion,  he  rose  to  a 
height  he  never  surpassed  :  his  frame  quivered  with  the 
action  of  his  mind ;  his  voice,  in  passages,  was  like  the 
roar  of  a  lion  at  bay. 

"  FELLOW -SUBJECTS  OF  VIRGINIA,"  he  began;  "FEL 
LOW-CITIZENS  OF  BOSTON,  then,  —  A  deed  which  Virginia 
commands  has  been  done  in  the  city  of  John  Hancock 
and  the 'brace  of  Adamses.'  It  was  done  by  a  Boston 
hand.  It  was  a  Boston  man  who  issued  the  warrant ;  it 
was  a  Boston  marshal  who  put  it  in  execution ;  they  are 
Boston  men  who  are  seeking  to  kidnap  a  citizen  of  Massa 
chusetts,  and  send  him  into  slavery  for  ever  and  ever.  It 
is  our  fault  that  it  is  so.  We  are  the  vassals  of  Virginia  : 
she  reaches  her  arm  over  the  graves  of  our  mothers,  and 
kidnaps  men  in  the  city  of  the  Puritans.  Gentlemen, 
there  is  no  Boston  to-day.  There  was  a  Boston  once : 
now  there  is  a  North  suburb  to  the  city  of  Alexandria. 
Gentlemen,  there  is  one  law,  —  slave  law:  it  is  everywhere. 
There  is  another  law  which  is  also  a  finality ;  and  that  law 
—  it  is  in  your  hands  and  your  arms,  and  you  can  put  it  in 
execution  just  when  you  see  fit. 

"  I  am  a  clergyman  and  a  man  of  peace.  I  love  peace. 
But  there  is  a  means,  and  there  is  an  end.  LIBERTY  is 
the  end  ;  and  sometimes  peace  is  not  the  means  toward  it. 
There  are  ways  of  managing  this  matter  without  shooting 
anybody.  Be  sure  that  these  men  who  have  kidnapped  a 
man  in  Boston  are  cowards,  every  mother's  son  of  them ; 
and  if  we  stand  up  there  resolutely,  and  declare  that  this 


424  THEODORE  PARKER. 

man  shall  not  go  out  of  the  city  of  Boston,  without  shoot 
ing  a  gun,  then  he  won't  go  back.  Now  I  am  going  to 
propose,  that,  when  you  adjourn,  it  be  to  meet  at  Court 
Square  to-morrow  morning  at  nine  o  'clock.  As  many  as  are 
in  favor  of  that  motion  will  raise  their  hands."  (Many 
hands  were  raised  :  but  there  came  from  many  voices  a 
cry,  "  Let's  go  to-night ; "  "  Let's  pay  a  visit  to  the  slave- 
catchers  at  the  Revere  House  ; "  and  a  demand  was  made 
for  that  question.  It  was  put.)  "  Do  you  propose  to  go  to 
the  Revere  House  to-night  ?  then  show  your  hands.  It  is 
not  a  vote.  We  shall  meet  at  Court  Square  at  nine  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning"  The  conclusion  was  lame,  impotent, 
and  unaccountable.  Parker  explained  it  afterwards  to  a 
friend  by  saying  that  he  waited  for  the  signal,  and  it  was 
not  given.  For  half  an  hour  he  had  talked  against  time, 
had  repeated  himself,  lingered,  and  finally  taken  his  seat 
in  sheer  perplexity. 

By  some  mistake,  it  would  seem,  some  inadvertency, 
some  delay,  the  signal  was  not  given  at  the  moment 
agreed  on.  Mr.  Phillips  rose  again  (this  is  William  F. 
Channing's  account),  never  cordially  assenting  to  the  plan 
of  assault,  and  now  persuaded  that  a  miscarriage  had  pre 
vented  it  entirely,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  task  of 
allaying  the  passion  of  the  confused  and  frenzied  people. 
Of  course,  he  succeeded :  when  did  he  ever  fail  in  a 
rhetorical  effort?  The  meeting  became  calm,  —  fatally  so 
for  its  original  purpose ;  and  at  that  moment  the  signal 
was  given  at  the  door  by  the  announcement  that  an  attack 
was  even  then  making  at  the  Court  House.  It  was  too 
late.  The  meeting  broke  up ;  the  multitude  streamed 
forth ;  but,  before  the  most  advanced  could  reach  Court 
Street,  the  struggle  had  begun.  Those  in  the  rear  of  the 
hall  and  on  the  platform  could  hardly  have  made  their 
way  to  the  door  by  the  time  it  had  ceased. 

The  attacking-party  did  their  work  promptly  and  with 
determination.  Mr.  Channing,  an  antislavery  man  from 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  425 

the  beginning,  member  of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  ar 
rived  on  the  spot  in  time  to  see  the  beam  which  answered 
as  a  battering-ram  brought  from  the  staircase  of  the 
Museum  building  opposite,  and  carried  across  the  street, 
by  a  dozen  men.  The  heavy  folding-doors  yielded  to  the 
force  of  the  blows  j  the  sound  reverberating  through  the 
streets,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  a  mile  off.  The  bell  of 
the  Court  House  rang  an  alarm  for  the  police.  But  two 
or  three  minutes  were  needed  to  break  the  door  down. 
It  gave  way ;  and  the  little  band  of  assailants,  rushing  up 
the  steps,  were  in  conflict  with  the  marshal  and  his  men. 
A  few  pistol-shots  were  fired,  a  deputy  marshal  was  killed, 
—  though  by  whom,  or  by  which  side,  was  never  ascer 
tained,  —  and  the  assailants  fell  back.  They  were  unsup 
ported,  had  no  reserves,  and  were  not  organized  for  a 
work  of  magnitude.  The  marshal's  men  fell  back  also 
within  the  building,  apparently  as  much  frightened  as  any 
body,  and  stood  on  the  stairway  leading  up  to  the  floor 
where  Burns  was  confined,  impotently  flourishing  their  cut 
lasses  in  space.  The  doorway  was  regarded  by  both  sides 
as  a  gate  of  death.  The  battered  door  alone  occupied 
the  empty  space.  At  this  moment  Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott 
walked  deliberately  up  the  steps,  stood  there  a  moment 
with  habitual  serenity,  quietly  descended,  and  remarked 
to  a  friend,  —  his  voice  preserving  its  even  tone,'  and  paus 
ing,  as  its  wont  was,  between  the  words,  —  "  Do  you  not 
think  we  are  wanted  there?"  The  invitation  was  not 
accepted  ;  for  the  police  were  on  the  ground.  Higginson 
was  badly  bruised  by  clubs,  his  forehead  laid  open  by  a 
cutlass ;  others  were  beaten  or  arrested ;  the  rest  scattered. 
The  whole  affair  lasted  scarcely  five  minutes.  The  oppor 
tunity  was  lost.  That  very  night  a  force  of  marines  was 
marched  over  from  the  Charlestown  Navy  Yard.  In  the 
morning  a  detachment  of  troops  arrived  from  Fort  Inde 
pendence.  No  further  demonstration  against  the  authori 
ties  was  made.  The  mayor  of  Boston  applied  for  the  aid 
36* 


426  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  the  State  militia  to  preserve  the  order  of  the  town. 
The  militia  held  the  streets,  while  United-States  soldiers 
held  the  Court  House.  The  city  had  the  aspect  of  being 
under  martial  law. 

Mr.  Parker's  distress  at  the  result  of  the  night's  work 
was  extreme.  On  hearing  that  a  black  man  had  fired  at 
Marshal  Freeman,  and  narrowly  missed  him,  he  wrung  his 
hands,  and  cried,  "  Why  didn't  he  hit  him  ?  why  didn't  he 
hit  him  ? "  Sympathy  with  the  fugitives  was  not  confined 
to  the  abolitionists.  Judges  themselves  counselled  the 
removal  of  negroes  when  practicable.  Even  official  souls 
were  sorely  exercised.  More  than  one  Massachusetts 
commissioner,  probably,  would  have  done  what  the  wife  of 
George  S.  Hillard  did  in  the  time  of  the  Craft  excitement, 
—  shelter  the  victim  of  persecution  beneath  her  own  roof, — 
had  he  possessed  that  noble  woman's  courage.  The  heart 
of  Boston  was  sounder  than  its  head.  The  President, 
Franklin  Pierce,  showed  eager  interest  in  the  proceedings, 
as  frequent  despatches  from  Washington  testified.  By  his 
direction,  the  adjutant-general  of  the  army  repaired  to 
Boston,  authorized  to  call  the  two  companies  of  United- 
States  troops  stationed  at  New  York,  if  the  State 
force  should  prove  inadequate.  Meanwhile  the  case  pro 
ceeded  against  the  prisoner,  in  spite  of  the  ability  and 
zeal  with  which  Messrs.  Dana  and  Ellis  managed  the 
defence.  At  any  other  time,  under  any  other  circum 
stances,  the  Virginia  claimant  would  have  been  baffled  ; 
for  he  failed  wholly  to  make  his  points.  As  it  was,  hopes 
were  entertained  of  a  decision  favorable  to  the  prisoner. 
Offers  to  buy  the  man  were  made  :  the  commissioner  him 
self  drew  the  sale  papers.  But  Suttle,  after  temporizing 
and  vacillating,  braced,  probably,  by  encouraging  hints  from 
those  high  in  authority,  intimidated,  perhaps,  by  threats 
from  his  Southern  neighbors,  that,  if  he  compromised,  it 
would  be  the  worse  for  him,  refused  to  close  the  bargain. 
The  decision  was  predestinated  by  the  powers  that  ruled. 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  427 

As  the  gloomy  days  went  on,  the  black  man's  friends  did 
their  utmost  to  rescue  him  from  bondage,  and  the  North 
from  shame.  The  vigorous  hand  which  was  ready  for 
any  work  produced  placard  after  placard  to  rouse  the 
citizens.  Seven  are  preserved,  the  most  pungent  of  them 
bearing  the  Parker  mark.  The  first  simply  announces,  in 
short,  sharp  words,  the  arrest.  The  second  calls  on  the 
citizens  of  Boston  to  see  to  it  that  no  free  citizen  is 
dragged  into  slavery  without  trial  by  jury.  A  third  sum 
mons  the  "  yeomanry  of  New  England  "  to  come  and  lend 
the  moral  weight  of  their  presence,  and  the  aid  of  their 
counsel,  to  the  friends  of  justice  and  humanity  in  the  city. 
A  fourth  brands  the  insult  of  employing  murderers,  prize 
fighters,  thieves,  and  blacklegs  to  aid  in  executing  the 
atrocious  law.  A  fifth  warns  the  citizens  to  be  on  their 
guard  against  an  attempt  to  carry  off  Burns  after  the  com 
missioner  had  declared  him  free.  A  sixth  admonishes  to 
be  on  the  alert  against  lies  and  deceit ;  a  story  being  afloat 
that  Burns  had  been  ransomed.  The  last,  issued  May  31, 
calls  on  true  Americans  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst: 
"  Let  there  be  no  armed  resistance ;  but  let  the  whole 
people  turn  out  and  line  the  streets,  and  look  upon  the 
shame  and  disgrace  of  Boston,  and  then  go  away  and 
take  measures  to  elect  men  to  office  who  will  better  guard 
the  honor  of  the  state  and  the  capital." 

No  device  was  neglected  that  might  help  defeat  the 
Burns  claimant.  Steps  were  taken  to  have  him  arrested, 
and  held  to  bail,  as  Knight  and  Hughes  had  been,  for 
kidnapping.  There  were  blacks  desperate  enough  to  lie 
in  wait  for  Suttle's  appearance  at  the  Court  House  to  an 
swer  the  charge,  purposing  his  assassination ;  but  the 
scheme  came  to  nothing.  It  was  too  late  for  expedients. 
Subsequently  to  the  rendition,  a  portion  of  the  Vigilance 
Committee  organized,  armed,  and  drilled  regularly  for 
resistance  to  the  law.  A  yacht  large  enough  for  sea- 
service  was  also  purchased  and  equipped.  The  captain 


428  THEODORE  PARKER. 

who  was  put  in  charge  of  it  said,  that,  if  he  had  had  the 
vessel  in  the  time  of  the  Sims  case,  he  would  have  sunk 
"  The  Acorn  "  before  she  reached  her  Southern  port.  For 
tunately  these  preparations  were  not  needed.  The  Burns 
case  was  too  costly  and  too  perilous  not  to  be  the  last ; 
but  that  case  had  to  be  pushed  through  to  the  end.  All 
had  been  done  that  could  be  done  at  that  crisis. 

The  commissioner  handed  the  man  over  to  his  claim 
ant  ;  and  on  Friday,  June  2,  crowds  of  indignant  people, 
thronging  the  sidewalks,  filling  porticoes  and  balconies, 
peering  from  windows,  gazing  from  roofs,  saw  the  helpless 
negro  in  the  centre  of  a  hollow  square  of  armed  ruffians  — 
themselves  guarded  by  companies  of  militia,  protected  by 
cannon  —  marched  through  Court  Street  and  State  Street 
to  the  wharf.  To  the  least  reflecting  the  scene  was  im 
pressive.  To  those  who  recalled  the  traditions  of  the  city, 
the  history  of  that  very  street ;  who  saw  law  and  liberty 
writhing  beneath  the  tread  of  the  soldiers,  and  the  soul  of 
civilization  itself  gasping  under  the  feet  of  the  foes  of  all 
society ;  who  knew  what  it  all  portended  if  it  went  on, 
and  feared  the  worst,  —  the  scene  was  as  awful  as  imagi 
nation  could  make  it.  The  Vigilance  Committee  ordered 
the  streets  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  route  of  the 
procession  to  be  draped  in  black,  and  the  bells  of  the 
city  to  be  tolled.  This  the  mayor  tried  to  prevent :  when 
requested  to  allow  it,  he  refused  with  vehement  stamp 
of  foot.  But  the  committee  detailed  men  for  the  service, 
and  it  was  pretty  generally  done.  One  of  them  obtained 
the  key  of  Brattle-street  Church ;  let  in  and  locked  in  a 
friend :  so  that  bell  was  made  to  sound  a  dirge.  As  a  last 
means  of  creating  confusion,  and  effecting  a  rescue,  the 
new  fire-alarm  was  struck  just  as  the  procession  was 
about  to  move.  The  engines  tore  down  State  Street 
through  the  lines  of  soldiers  and  the  crowds  of  citizens. 
It  is  a  wonder  that  people  were  not  killed  in  the  tumult  j 
that  blood  was  not  SDilled  in  the  fury :  but  the  sudden 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  429 

irruption  passed ;  the  lines  closed  up ;  and  the  iron  phalanx 
was  unbroken.  They  who  witnessed  the  scene  of  removal 
will  never  forget  it.  How  one  great  soul  felt,  thousands 
learned  at  Music  Hall  on  the  next  Sunday,  when  "  The  New 
Crime  against  Humanity"  was  described  in  words  that 
woke  the  echoes  of  history,  and  sent  ominous  thunder 
rolling  through  the  galleries  of  time. 

The  tragedy  over,  the  farce  began.  On  June  7, 
Judge  B.  R.  Curtis  charged  the  grand  jury,  in  substance, 
as  follows :  That  not  only  those  who  were  present  and 
actually  obstructed,  resisted,  and  opposed,  and  all  who  were 
present  leagued  in  the  common  design,  but  all  who,  though 
absent,  did  procure,  counsel,  command,  or  abet  others,  and 
all  who,  by  indirect  means,  by  evincing  an  express  liking, 
gave  approbation  or  assent  to  the  design,  were  liable  as 
principals;  and  it  was  of  no  importance  that  the  advice 
or  directions  were  departed  from  in  respect  to  the  pre 
cise  time  or  place  or  mode  or  means  of  committing  the 
offence.  This  was  aimed  at  a  few  individuals ;  and,  under 
it,  indictments  were  found  against  Theodore  Parker,  Wen 
dell  Phillips,  Martin  Stowell,  Thomas  Wentworth  Higgin- 
son,  John  Morrison,  Samuel  T.  Proudman,  and  John  C. 
Cluer.  Parker  was  arrested  Nov.  29.  Time  for  the  trials 
was  fixed,  —  April  3,  1855.  A  formidable  array  of  counsel 
appeared  for  the  defence, — John  P.  Hale  and  Charles 
M.  Ellis  for  Mr.  Parker;  William  L.  Burt,  John  A.  An 
drew,  H.  F.  Durant,  for  the  rest.  But  the  trials  did  not 
proceed.  Mr.  Parker's  counsel  moved  that  the  indictment 
against  him  be  quashed.  A  brief  argument  sufficed.  The 
Court  pronounced  the  indictments  bad,  and  ordered  that 
against  Stowell  to  be  dismissed.  The  district-attorney, 
Benjamin  F.  Hallett,  entered  a  nolle prosequi  in  the  other 
cases ;  and  the  whole  affair  ended.  "  Well,  Mr.  Parker," 
said  Commissioner  Benjamin  F.  Hallett,  "you  have  crept 
out  through  a  knot-hole  this  time."  —  "I  will  knock  a 
bigger  hole  next  time,"  was  the  gruff  reply. 


430  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  result  was  anticipated.  Mr.  Parker  wrote  to  his 
friend  Desor,  on  the  igth  of  November,  that  he  should  not 
be  indicted.  He  was  half  sorry;  for  he  longed  for  an 
opportunity  to  make  a  speech  ;  but,  on  the  whole,  was  glad 
of  the  result,  preferring  to  be  rid  of  the  trouble  and  vexa 
tion,  and  to  have  the  city  and  state  spared  the  shame. 
He  did  not  mean,  however,  that  the  persecutors  should 
escape.  Three  or  four  days  after  the  judge  had  delivered 
his  charge,  Parker's  line  of  defence  was  marked  out,  the 
fortifications  sketched,  the  place  of  the  batteries  deter 
mined,  arms  collected.  The  quashing  of  the  indict 
ments  did  not  disarm  him.  Opportunity  to  address  the 
court  was  lost;  but  opportunity  to  address  the  people 
remained.  The  great  issue  between  free  institutions  and 
slavery  was  open,  and  was  likely  to  remain  open.  Other 
trials  might  be  expected.  The  fortresses  of  Liberty  needed 
strengthening ;  and  he  set  about  the  preparation  of  that 
remarkable  "  Defence,"  —  less  a  defence  than  an  historical 
review,  and  muscular  statement  of  principles,  —  which  has 
only  passed  into  neglect  with  a  thousand  other  things 
because  the  "  God  of  battles  "  would  endure  trifling  no 
longer,  and  called  more  terrible  servants  into  the  field. 
The  summer  of  1855  was  devoted  to  this  burning  volume 
of  two  hundred  and  twenty  pages.  It  is  a  monument  of 
historical  learning,  as  well  as  a  thrilling  record  of  events 
and  a  stern  judgment  on  men.  The  portion  that  con 
cerned  himself  personally  is  small  as  compared  with  that 
which  concerned  his  fellow-citizens.  They,  and  not  he, 
were  the  persons  assailed  ;  and  the  intention  was  to  plant 
convictions  in  their  minds  in  a  way  to  last  forever.  The 
slave  power  was  ranked  with  the  most  arrant  of  despotisms ; 
its  measures  were  classed  with  the  most  infamous  deeds 
of  the  most  infamous  times ;  its  servants  were  numbered 
with  the  meanest  tools  of  tyranny. 

"  Spirits  of  tyrants,"  he  cries,  quoting  the  language  of  a  ser 
mon    preached    after    the   surrender   of    Sims,  —  "spirits    of 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  431 

tyrants  !  I  look  down  to  you.  Shade  of  Cain,  you  great  first 
murderer  !  forgive  me  that  I  forgot  your  power,  and  did  not 
remember  that  you  were  parent  of  so  long  a  line.  I  will  open 
the  tombs,  and  bring  up  most  hideous  tyrants  from  the  dead. 

"  Come  hither,  Herod  the  wicked  !  Let  me  look  on  thy  face. 
No  :  go  !  Thou  wert  a  heathen. 

"  Come,  Nero,  thou  awful  Roman  emperor  !  come  up.  No  : 
thou  wast  drunk  with  power,  schooled  in  Roman  depravity. 
Thou  hadst,  beside,  the  example  of  thy  fancied  gods. 

"Come  hither,  St.  Dominic!  come,  Torquemada  ! — fathers 
of  the  Inquisition.  Merciless  monsters  !  seek  your  equal  here. 
No  :  pass  by.  You  are  no  companions  for  such  men  as  these. 
You  were  the  servants  of  atheistic  popes,  of  cruel  kings. 

"  Come  up,  thou  heap  of  wickedness,  George  Jeffreys  !  thy 
hands  deep  purple  with  the  blood  of  thy  murdered  fellow-men. 
Awful  and  accursed  shade  !  two  hundred  years  thy  name  has 
been  pilloried  in  face  of  the  world,  and  thy  memory  gibbeted 
before  mankind.  Come,  shade  of  a  judicial  butcher !  let  us 
see  how  thou  wilt  compare  with  those  who  kidnap  men  in 
Boston. 

"  What !  dost  thou  shudder  ?  thou  turn  back  ?  These  not 
thy  kindred  ?  It  is  true,  George  Jeffreys  ;  and  these  are  not 
thy  kin.  It  was  a  great  bribe  that  tempted  thee.  Thou  only 
struckst  at  men  accused  of  crime,  not  at  men  accused  only  of 
their  birth.  Thou  wouldst  not  send  a  man  into  bondage  for 
two  pounds.  I  will  not  rank  thee  with  men,  who  in  Boston, 
for  ten  dollars,  would  enslave  a  negro  now.  Rest  still,  Herod ! 
be  quiet,  Nero  !  sleep,  St.  Dominic  !  and  sleep,  O  Torquemada  ! 
in  your  fiery  jail.  Sleep,  Jeffreys  !  underneath  the  '  altar  of  the 
church '  which  seeks  with  Christian  charity  to  hide  your  hated 
bones." 

These  tremendous  words  were  spoken  soberly,  by  a 
man  quite  as  ready  to  have  them  judged  by  the  laws  of 
truth  as  by  the  rules  of  rhetoric.  They  who  must  look  at 
deeds  through  the  imagination ;  who  need  the  illusion,  if 
not  the  enchantment,  of.  distance,  and  therefore  credit  an 
tiquity  with  all  the  great  examples  of  either  fame  or  infamy, 
— read  them  as  the  ravings  of  a  fanatic.  But  they  who 


432  THEODORE  PARKER. 

looked  at  deeds,  as  he  did,  in  the  light  of  absolute  right 
eousness  ;  whose  imagination  was  filled  with  the  shapes 
of  eternity,  and  therefore  knew  but  one  standard,  —  the 
supreme  law,  —  read  them  with  awe,  as  the  judgments  of 
a  prophet.  Mr.  Parker  was  not  playing  on  the  passions 
of  his  audience ;  for  he  deliberately  repeated  the  language 
four  years  after  it  was  first  uttered,  in  a  book  designed  to 
be  read.  He  was  not  conscious  of  dealing  in  exaggera 
tions :  he  was  merely  applying  the  doctrine  which  he 
had  vindicated  against  the  objections  of  Dr.  Channing 
years  before, — that  the  individual  conscience  enunciated 
the  supreme  law,  or  would  if  allowed  to  speak.  By  that 
doctrine  he  was  justified  with  all  who  accept  it.  The  disci 
ples  of  a  different  school  of  philosophy  —  which  studies 
human  nature  by  other  methods,  and  is  disposed  to  ques 
tion  the  accounts  of  human  monsters  as  well  as  human 
paragons — may  pronounce  his  verdicts  unjust,  on  the 
ground  that  they  disregarded  the  complexities  of  motive, 
and  weighed  in  rude  scales  the  delicate  moral  qualities 
which  make  up  character :  these  men  are  very  far  from 
being  moral  enthusiasts  ;  they  are  apt  to  be  moral  neutrals, 
if  not  moral  sceptics.  Parker's  invective  met  with  small 
sympathy  from  the  multitude  of  respectable  people  who 
sincerely  believed  the  Union  to  be  in  danger  from  the 
Northern  spirit  of  liberty,  and  felt  that  the  return  of  a  few 
negroes  to  the  State  wherein  they  were  born  was  an  evil  of 
infinitely  less  magnitude ;  and  the  personal  friends  of  the 
judge  and  the  commissioner,  who  knew  them  to  be  amia 
ble,  conscientious,  and  humane  gentlemen,  —  certainly  no 
more  inclined  to  cruelty  or  conscious  turpitude  than  their 
neighbors,  —  hooted  at  the  preacher's  arraignment  of  them 
as  the  wildest  folly.  Mr.  Parker  may  have  been  wrong  in 
his  psychology ;  but  we  cannot  see  evidence  that  he  was 
malignant  in  his  temper.  He  had  strong  moral  antipathies ; 
but  was,  personally,  no  hater  of  men.  He  detested  deeds  ; 
the  doers  of  them  were  hateful  to  him :  but,  as  a  man,  he 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  SLAVERY.  433 

felt  for  them  no  animosity.  True,  he  never  forgot,  and  he 
never  permitted  others  to  forget,  a  minister's  unfortunate 
expression  of  willingness  to  return  a  near  kinsman  to  the 
slavery  he  might  have  fled  from,  rather  than  imperil  the 
national  unity.  He  pursued  certain  prominent  men  of 
Boston  with  remorseless  severity,  holding  them  up  to 
public  scorn,  thrusting  acts  of  theirs  into  people's  faces, 
till  they  seemed  to  be  congested  masses  of  turpitude. 
Theirs,  however,  he  regarded  as  public  deeds,  which  he 
fastened  upon  and  exhibited  for  the  purpose  of  riveting 
attention  to  principles,  not  for  the  purpose  of  blackening 
characters.  He  knew  the  force  of  reiteration  and  empha 
sis  in  making  things  remembered.  No  man  ever  tried 
harder,  against  a  vehement  and  sarcastic  temper,  to  sepa 
rate  the  personal  from  the  impersonal  feeling.  No  man 
ever  tried  harder  to  suppress  personal  feeling  altogether. 
That  he  wholly  succeeded  cannot  be  claimed;  that  he 
occasionally  spoke  bitterly,  even  sneeringly,  of  his  "  ene 
mies,  persecutors,  and  slanderers,"  cannot  be  denied: 
but  he  did  pray  God  to  forgive  them,  and  to  turn  their 
hearts ;  nay,  he  himself  was  singularly  ready  to  forgive 
on  the  slightest  show  of  concession,  and  would  do  any 
thing  in  his  power  to  turn  their  hearts.  Candor  must 
grant  this.  May  not  candor  grant,  besides,  that,  if  he  was 
guilty  of  unjust  judgments,  he  was  led  thereto  as  much, 
at  the  very  least,  by  the  intensity  of  his  moral  feeling  as 
by  the  passionateness  of  his  native  temper  ?  and,  if  this 
be  so,  something  may  be  forgiven  him.  In  these  days, 
excess  of  conscience  is  not  common.  The  levelling  pro 
cess,  which  brings  all  characters  to  the  same  grade,  and 
that  a  low  one,  goes  on  fast :  appeals  to  interest  are  more 
frequent  and  more  urgent  than  appeals  to  honor :  "  senti 
ment  "  of  the  exalted  kind  is  not  in  fashion  anywhere  :  the 
pure  dictates  of  the  moral  law  are  losing  their  venerable- 
ness.  Parker  did  believe  in  them  ;  demanded  that  all 
should  believe ;  threatened  woe  to  all  who  flouted  them.  If 
37 


434  THEODORE  PARKER. 

he  dealt  in  exaggerations,  they  were  grand  ones  :  they  were 
the  exaggerations  of  faith.  To  them  we  owe,  in  part,  the 
power  of  the  faith  which  at  last  saved  the  nation;  for, 
when  the  civil  war  came,  the  value  of  conscience  became 
clearer.  Few  then  wished  that  lighter  emphasis  had  been 
laid  on  it  in  previous  years.  Exaggerations  of  language 
sounded  faint  enough  beside  the  roar  of  cannon.  He 
who  had  uttered  the  boldest  prophecy  was  seen  to  be  the 
calmest  judge.  Instead  of  holding  him  answerable  for 
sin  because  he  held  up  to  execration  ideas  and  their  rep 
resentatives,  men  were  more  disposed  to  reproach  them 
selves  with  faithlessness  because  they  had  rejected  the 
warning. 

The  interior  history  of  the  slave-struggle  proves  that 
Mr.  Parker's  share  in  it  was  large  and  important.  That 
his  soul  was  in  it,  was,  therefore,  a  necessity ;  and  the  soul 
of  such  a  man,  once  roused,  does  not  stop,  when  turning 
over  the  soil  of  the  stubborn  fallow-land,  to  weep  over  the 
daisy  his  iron  ploughshare  has  bruised.  To  him  sin  was  a 
sinner ;  malignity  was  a  man  ;  the  Prince  of  Darkness 
was  a  gentleman.  If  he  loaded  his  rifle  with  ball,  it  was 
because  he  was  a  good  soldier.  Had  more  such  ball- 
cartridges  as  his  been  driven  home,  the  thunder  of  a  na 
tion's  guns  might  have  been  spared. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


THE   KANSAS   WAR. 

THE  history  of  the  struggle  to  people  Kansas  with  true 
children  of  New  England,  so  as  to  secure  its  admission 
into  the  Union  as  a  free  State,  cannot  be  told  here.  Mr. 
Parker  has  told  it  so  well,  that  reference  to  his  discourses 
is  sufficient.  There  is  room  now  only  for  a  succinct 
account  of  his  own  efforts  in  this  new  field.  From  the 
nature  of  the  case,  his  personal  activity  in  the  fresh  emer 
gency  was  less  than  in  the  cases  of  fugitive-slave  hunting 
in  his  own  parish.  Kansas  was  very  far  off ;  and  a  press 
of  duties  kept  him  in  Boston.  But,  as  far  as  his  influence 
went,  it  was  at  the  service  of  the  cause.  His  counsel  was 
valuable,  his  encouragement,  his  generosity  in  giving,  and 
his  aid  in  collecting  money. 

Front  the  Journal. 

APRIL  2,  1856. 

Saw  the  Kansas  party  go  off,  Dr.  Charles  H.  Sanborn  at 
their  head,  —  about  forty,  nearly  half  of  them  women  and 
children.  There  were  twenty  copies  of  " Sharp 's  Rights  of 
the  People  "  in  their  hands,  of  the  new  and  improved  edition, 
and  divers  Colt's  six-shooters  also.  As  the  bell  rang  for  the 
train  to  move  (at  five  and  a  half,  Providence  Railroad),  they 
were  singing,  — 

"  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear." 

One  of  the  verses  would  have  some  meaning :  — 

435 


436  THEODORE  PARKER. 

1 '  Should  earth  against  my  soul  engage, 

And  hellish  darts  be  hurled, 

Then  I  can  smile  at  Satan's  rage, 

And  face  a  frowning  world." 

But  what  a  comment  were  the  weapons  of  that  company  on 
the  boasted  democracy  of  America  !  Those  rifles  and  pistols 
were  to  defend  their  soil  from  the  American  Government, 
which  wishes  to  plant  slavery  in  Kansas.  Compare  the  settler 
from  Boston  in  1656,  in  1756,  and  then  in  1856. 

From  Letters  to  Miss  Hunt. 

SEPT.  4,  1856. 

Congress  passed  the  Army  Bill  without  the  proviso  :  so  the 
President  can  use  his  money  to  push  slavery  in  at  the  point 
of  the  bayonet.  There  is  continual  fighting  in  Kansas.  You 
remember  Rev.  Mr.  Nute  from  Kansas.  His  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  Hipps,  came  from  Leavenworth  to  Lawrence,  staid  a  day 
or  two  at  Nute's,  left  his  sick  wife,  and  started  for  home 
without  weapons.  A  ruffian  shot  him  dead,  scalped  him,  and 
then  exhibited  the  scalp  in  Leavenworth,  and  said,  "  I  went 

out  for  the  scalp  of  a  d d  abolitionist,  and  I  have  got  one." 

Of  course,  the  government  likes  this  ;  "  The  Post "  likes  it ; 
and  the  respectability  of  Boston  must  say,  "  Served  him 
right !  "  You  will  hear  of  yet  bloodier  work  in  Kansas.  Hig- 
ginson  has  gone  there.  But«for  your  visit  to  Europe,  I  should 
have  spent  my  vacation  in  Kansas.  Next  summer  will  proba 
bly  find  me  there.  .  .  . 

Brooks  is  drunk  all  the  time  now,  and  is  quite  cowed  down 
with  the  reputation  for  cowardice  fixed  on  him.  It  is  not 
thought  gentlemanly  for  a  Northern  man  to  speak  of  him  in 
the  presence  of  Southern  ladies.  Such  is  the  wrath  of  his 
friends,  that  they  engaged  a  mob  of  rowdies  to  insult  Burlin- 
game,  —  spit  in  his  face,  &c. ;  and  then,  if  he  resisted,  to  kill 
him  :  so  Burlingame's  friends  kept  him  out  of  the  city,  not 
letting  him  know  the  news  ;  and  he  was  not  there  to  vote 
against  the  Army  Bill.  .  .  . 

I  still  think  the  election  of  Fremont  presents  the  only 
chance  for  a  peaceful  settlement  of  the  ghastly  question  ;  but 
every  day  I  feel  less  confidence  in  such  a  settlement,  even  with 
his  election.  The  wrath  of  the  South  is  too  hot  to  allow  of  a 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  437 

permanent  union.  I  would  gladly  separate  from  them  to-mor 
row,  were  it  not  that  we  should  leave  four  million  Americans  in 
bonds.  Set  them  free,  I  would  vote  for  dissolution  to-morrow. 
We  could  take  all  north  of  the  Potomac  and  Ohio,  and  all  west 
of  the  Mississippi,  and  let  the  miserable  rowdies  have  Virginia, 
North  Carolina,  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Alabama,  Missouri, 
Louisiana,  Tennessee,  and  Kentucky. 

From  Letters  to  Mrs.  Af  thorp. 

SEPT.  ii,  1856. 

Mr.  Nute  is  in  the  hands  of  the  ruffians.  We  fear  he  is 
hanged.  The  accounts  are  awful  from  Kansas.  Five  persons 
were  shot  after  they  had  surrendered.  Scalping  is  as  common 
as  with  other  savages.  .  .  . 

We  are  now  in  a  civil  war.  I  went  to  a  Kansas  meeting  at 
Cambridge  last  night.  R.  W.  E.  was  expected,  but  did  not 
come  till  near  nine  ;  others  wasting  the  time  before  in  idle 
laughter  and  jokes.  Yet  good  things  were  said.  E.  was  not 
happy,  but  said  many  good  things,  as  always.  He  would  send 
out  the  sergeant-at-arms  to  compel  all  Americans  to  return 
forthwith,  lest  by  and  by  there  be  no  country  left  for  them.  I 
know  not  what  is  before  us,  but  augur  evil,  —  evil,  and  then 
triumph. 

SEPT.  19,  1856. 

Things  look  better  in  Kansas.  The  ruffians  have  been 
worsted  in  some  fights.  Lawrence  is  well  fortified  now  ;  has  a 
fort  that  will  hold  a  thousand  men.  Dr.  Howe  and  others 
raised  five  thousand  dollars  one  day  last  week  to  buy  Sharp's 
rifles.  We  want  a  thousand  rifles,  and  got  two  hundred  in 
one  day.  Nute  is  now  at  large  ;  but  the  particulars  I  know 
not.  Lying  is  common  on  both  sides,  I  fear :  I  know  "  mis 
takes  "  are  not  rare  in  such  times.  But  the  government  is 
backing  down.  .  .  . 

It  is  writ  down  in  the  bond  that  Sumner  is  to  go  to  the  Sen 
ate  :  the  Know-Nothing  Convention  at  Worcester  unanimously 
passed  a  resolve  to  that  effect.  But  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see. 

Sennott  says  President  Pierce  is  drunk  every  day.  I  had 
intelligence  of  his  being  solemnly  intoxicated  on  a  most  impor 
tant  occasion  last  May  ;  but  now  he  is  gone  over,  it  is  said,  to 
cups,  and  cups  only.  Really,  born  rulers  are  not  much  worse 
than  the  elected. 

37* 


438  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Gov.  Reeder  has  come  out  for  Fremont :  his  long  letter  is 
in  "  The  New- York  Evening  Post "  of  yesterday.  Geary's 
inaugural  speech  is  just  telegraphed  to  us.  He  demands  obe 
dience  to  the  Territorial  legislature  till  its  laws  are  repealed 
(repudiation  by  the  people  is  no  repeal  of  the  border-ruffian 
"  laws,"  I  suppose) ;  but  promises  to  protect  all,  without  respect 
of  party,  and  calls  on  armed  bands  to  disperse,  or  quit  the  Terri 
tory.  He  has  dignified  with  the  title  of  "  militia  "  the  compa 
nies  of  Southern  marauders  whom  Shannon  had  furnished 
with  arms,  banners,  protection,  and  whiskey,  and  set  to  scalp 
the  peaceful  inhabitants  of  Kansas.  Things  look  much  better 
for  Kansas.  The  Emigrant  Aid  Society  has  forever  prevented 
it  from  becoming  a  slave  State  ;  for,  if  this  company  had  not 
been  at  work,  the  Missourians  and  others  would  have  flocked 
in,  and  made  its  institutions  to  suit  the  South.  Now  I  have  no 
fears  of  its  future. 

We  had  a  meeting  of  women  at  our  house  Monday,  P.M., 
and  have  raised  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  amongst 
them  for  clothing  for  Kansas  ;  and,  besides,  any  quantity  of 
women  are  at  work  making  clothes  for  the  men. 

To  Miss  Hunt. 

SEPT.  21,  1856. 

.  .  .  Yesterday  I  omitted  the  chapter  of  St.  James  as  morn 
ing  lesson,  and  introductory  to  a  sermon  on  .Franklin,  and, 
instead,  read  from  a  new  epistle  of  St.  Ephraim  (Nute),  written 
a  fortnight  before  in  Kansas,  and  telling  of  his  captivity  arid 
cruel  treatment.  There  was  an  immense  audience ;  seats  all 
full,  and  men  leaning  against  the  wall.  Dr.  Bowditch  came 
and  suggested  that  a  contribution  should  be  taken  up  at  the 
door.  I  mentioned  it ;  and  now  three  hundred  dollars  are  in 
my  drawer  for  Mr.  Nute  and  his  fellow-apostles.  It  was  not 
ten  cents  apiece  for  the  audience,  but  a  pretty  sum  for  him 
and  them. 

To  Mrs.  Af  thorp. 

OCT.  6, 1856. 

...  I  don't  feel  so  confident  of  success  as  a  week  ago. 
Even  if  Fremont  be  elected,  I  have  terrible  fears  for  the  sound 
ness  of  his  advisers'  and  of  his  own  course.  ...  I  never 
took  such  interest  in  an  election.  In  1840,  when  the  nation 
shook  with  agitation,  I  took  no  part,  no  interest :  there  was  no 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  439 

idea  at  issue  which  I  cared  a  pin  for.  The  nation  was  tired  of 
being  on  one  side,  and  wanted  to  turn  over,  and  did  so  with 
much  noise.  But  now  there  is  a  great  question :  we  are  to 
decide  a  programme  of  principles,  which  involves  a  long  train 
of  measures,  between  such  prosperity  as  we  have  not  ever  seen 
and  such  misery  and  ruin  as  we  never  feared.  There  is  a  bat 
tle  with  swords  going  on  at  Kansas,  with  votes  all  over  the 
laud.  Kansas  is  the  centre  of  the  continent.  Put  one  foot  of 
the  compasses  in  the  middle  of  Kansas  where  the  Republican 
and  the  Snaky  Rivers  meet,  let  the  other  rest  on  Boston,  then 
sweep  the  circle  round,  it  touches  (or  comes  close  to)  Quebec, 
the  middle  of  Hudson's  Bay,  the  mouth  of  the  Oregon,  San 
Francisco,  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  Havana.  Now,  the  battle 
between  Freedom  and  Slavery  is  for  the  physical  heart  of 
America,  and,  of  course,  for  its  limbs  ;  but  the  actual  battle  is 
not  less  for  the  spiritual  heart  of  America. 

To  Miss  Hunt. 

Nov.  4,  1856  (Night). 

It  is  election-day.  We  have  heard  only  from  Boston  and  a 
few  towns  round  about.  All  the  news  is  good  so  far.  To-mor 
row,  at  nine,  I  will  give  the  result  as  far  as  known  :  so  you 
shall  have  the  earliest  (and  latest)  news. 

It  is  a  day  not  less  critical  in  our  future  history  than  the 
4th  of  July,  1776,  for  the  past.  This  morning  there  were  three 
alternatives  before  the  nation :  I.  The  North  might  put  down 
slavery  by  a  vote,  peacefully,  yet  securely,  though  step  by  step ; 
2.  The  North  might  allow  freedom  to  be  put  down  by  a  vote, 
peacefully,  yet  securely,  though  step  by  step  ;  3.  The  North 
and  South  must  have  a  civil  war.  So  it  was  at  sunrise  :  at  sun 
set  there  maybe  only  a  choice  between  the  two  latter,  —  slavery, 
or  battle.  If  the  North  locks  horns  with  the  South,  I  know 
which  is  crowded  into  the  ditch.  But,  in  1776,  the  worst  part  of 
England  was  in  America :  so  now  the  worst  part  of  the  North 
is  at  the  South. 

To  the  Same. 

Nov.  16,  1856. 

1  am  more  than  ever  of  opinion  that  we  must  settle  this 
question  in  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  way,  —  by  the  sword.  There 
are  two  constitutions  for  America, — one  written  on  parchment, 


440  THEODORE  PARKER. 

and  laid  up  at  Washington ;  the  other  also  on  parchment,  but  on 
the  head  of  a  drum.  It  is  to  this  we  must  appeal,  and  before 
long.  I  make  all  my  pecuniary  arrangements  with  the  expecta 
tion  of  civil  war.  I  buy  no  books  ;  have  not  orders  out  for  fifty 
dollars,  and  commonly  have  at  least  five  hundred  dollars  on 
order  in  all  parts  of  the  world. 


To  Mrs.  Apthorp. 

Nov.  n,  1^56. 

.  .  .  This  morning,  Mr.  Rhett  of  South  Carolina  is  out  with 
a  letter  to  the  governor  of  that  great  State  of  three  hundred  and 
eighty-five  thousand  slaves,  and  two  hundred  and  eighty-three 
thousand  white  men,  recommending  dissolution.  South  Caroli 
na  will  nullify  at  all  hazards.  Gen.  Quattlebum  has  again  taken 
the  field,  —  of  newspapers,  —  and  sheds  ink  and  valor  without 
discretion.  I  don't  believe  we  shall  hold  together  long.  The 
union  is  not  by  internal  cohesion,  but  outside  pressure.  The 
hoop  which  holds  these  silly  staves  together  is  no  thicker  than 
a  dollar-bill :  a  drop  of  blood,  nay,  a  little  ink,  will  weaken  it 
so  that  all  falls  to  pieces.  I  doubt  that  we  see  ten  years 
without  bloodshed.  ...  I  don't  see  the  immediate  future  of 
America :  the  remote  future  appears  more  clear  and  distinct. 
This  new  administration  will  make  its  attack  on  Cuba,  I  take 
it.  Mexico  is  falling  to  pieces  ;  and  Jonathan  must  be  there  to 
pick  up  the  fragments.  The  American  Government  has  re 
fused  to  give  a  passport  to  a  colored  man,  on  the  ground  that 
he  was  not  a  citizen,  though  born  here.  I  mean  to  petition  the 
Legislature  of  Massachusetts  to  pass  a  law  directing  our  officials 
to  furnish  the  colored  citizens  of  Massachusetts  with  such  pass 
ports  as  will  be  sufficient.  .  .  . 


To  the  Same. 

DEC.  29,  1856. 

.  .  .  We  need  Sumner  at  Washington  just  now. 

"  One  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn  were  worth  a  thousand  men." 

For  the  Republicans  apologize  and  explain,  and  say  they  "  are 
not  an  abolition  party,  not  an  antislavery  party,  not  opposed  to 
the  extension  of  slavery:"  they  "only  mean  to  restore  the 
Missouri  Compromise."  Men  talk  hopefully  about  Kansas. 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  441 

Certainly  all  is  peaceful  there   at  present;   but  I  know  the 
enemy  too  well. 

"  Then  most  we  dread  the  tempest's  wrath 
When  most  we  seem  secure." 

To  Miss  Hunt. 

OCT.  31,  1857. 

.  .  .  Sumner's  friends  who  have  seen  him  think  it  would  be 
ruinous  for  him  to  return  this  winter.  His  health  is  not  much 
better  now  than  when  he  left  Paris,  I  should  judge.  I  think 
Sumner  is  killed,  so  far  as  usefulness  is  concerned  :  more  mer 
ciful  if  the  blow  had  been  fatal  at  once.  George  Hillard  thinks 
he  had  better  not  come  back.  There  will  be  nothing  of  any 
importance  done  this  session,  —  nothing  about  Kansas,  you 
know  ;  about  Cuba,  nothing  ;  nothing  about  the  slave-trade,  or 
Dred  Scott  decision.  If  I  were  in  Sumner's  place,  when  Con 
gress  came  together,  I  would  be  there.  If  I  could  sit  but  an 
hour  a  day,  that  hour  I  would  be  there. 

I  saw  old  Josiah  Quincy  in  the  street  to-day.  He  has  a 
backbone,  which,  old  as  he  is,  sticks  out  through  his  great-coat. 

To  Mrs.  Apthorp. 

DECEMBER,  1857. 

.  .  .  The  little  class  of  well-educated  men,  by  falseness  to  their 
position,  have  lost  the  confidence  of  the  people  ;  and  a  few  men 
with  more"  conscience,  though  often  with  less  culture,  command 
the  homage  of  the  very  crowds  which  educated  hypocrisy  in 
vain  attempted  to  cajole  and  win.  See  what  reception  is  given 
to  Beecher  and  Chapin  !  —  men  of  not  great  intellect  or  great 
knowledge,  but  inspired  with  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  age, 
and  so  standing  in  intimate  relations  with  the  people. 

See  the  success  of  Sumner  and  Phillips  !  the  triumph  of 
Emerson,  who  has  a  more  glorious  history  than  any  American 
of  this  generation  !  Prescott  has  changed  no  man's  opinion. 
Bancroft  has  elevated  no  man.  Irving  has  made  men  laugh  at 
his  fun,  and  rejoice  in  the  precious  beauty  which  blossoms  in 
his  field  and  his  garden  :  that  is  all.  Webster  has  connected 
himself  with  nothing  except  hunkerism :  his  symbol  is  his  plas 
ter  bust ;  but  his  calf -bound  volumes  of  speeches  are  as  dead 
as  the  brass  of  the  Colossus  at  Rhodes,  which  an  earthquake 


442  .         THEODORE  PARKER. 

threw  down,  and  a  Jew  bought,  —  a  load  also  for  nine  hundred 
camels :  he  affects  no  man's  opinion.  Clay  was  the  tariff, 
which  is  now  dead, — an  obsolete  idea,  but  a  curse,  while  it 
lived,  to  the  manufacturers  who  bought  it  of  him.  Calhoun  was 
slavery :  the  greatest  sophist  the  nation  ever  knew  was  prop 
erly  devoted  to  the  worst  institution  now  in  the  growing  world. 
The  dead  tariff  will  soon  be  buried  also,  and  on  top  of  Henry 
Clay ;  slavery  will  go  to  the  Devil,  and  take  with  it  the  mem 
ory  of  John  C.  Calhoun,  a  great  sophist,  and  of  many  little 
sophists  at  the  same  time  :  but  Emerson  has  touched  the  deep 
est  strings  on  the  human  harp,  and,  ten  centuries  after  he  is 
immortal,  will  wake  music  which  he  first  waked. 

Thus  Theodore  Parker  took  into  his  heart  his  country's 
sorrow  and  need,  not  sparing  himself  a  pang.  He  felt  the 
whole  situation;  let  no  aspect  of  it  pass  him  by;  but 
exhausted,  so  far  as  it  was  in  him,  even  the  possibilities 
of  agony.  The  tremendous  facts  came  before  him,  every 
one  in  the  fulness  of  minute  detail.  The  tremendous 
issues  unrolled  themselves  before  his  prophetic  gaze.  He 
followed  every  move  of  the  politicians  :  no  trick  of  the 
party  managers  escaped  him.  He  had  his  eye  on  every 
public  man ;  watched  with  breathless  interest  each  new 
comer  on  the  stage  ;  and  weighed,  in  scales  that  rarely 
erred,  the  persons  who  undertook  the  control  of  public 
affairs.  The  following  letters  show  the  temper  of  his 
own  mind,  and  also  the  view  he  took  of  the  good  citizen's 
duty :  — 

To  Hon.  W.  H.  Seward. 

BOSTON,  May  19,  1854. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  It  seems  to  me  that  the  country  has  now  got 
to  such  a  pass,  that  the  people  must  interfere  and  take  things 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  politicians  who  now  control  them,  or  else 
the  American  State  will  be  lost.  Allow  me  to  show  in  extenso 
what  I  mean.  Here  are  two  distinct  elements  in  the  nation  ; 
viz.,  FREEDOM  and  SLAVERY.  The  two  are  hostile  in  nature, 
and  therefore  mutually  invasive  :  both  are  organized  in  the  in 
stitutions  of  the  land.  These  two  are  not  equilibrious :  so  the 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  443 

nation  is  not  a  figure  of  eqiiilibrium.  It  is  plain  (to  me)  that 
these  two  antagonistic  forces  cannot  long  continue  ki  this 
condition.  There  are  three  possible  modes  of  adjusting 
the  balance,  all  conceivable  :  — 

I.  There  may  be  a  separation  of  the  two  elements:  then 
each  may  form  a  whole,  equilibrious,  and  so  without  that  cause 
of  dissolution  in  itself,  and  have  a  national  unity  of  action, 
which  is  indispensable.     Or,  — 

II.  Freedom  may  destroy  slavery :  then  the  whole  nation 
continues  as  an  harmonious  whole,  with  national  unity  of  action, 
the  result  of  national  unity  of  place.     Or, — 

III.  Slavery  may   destroy  freedom,   and    then    the    nation 
become  an  integer,  only  a  unit  of  despotism.     This,  of  course, 
involves  a  complete  revolution  of  all  the  national  ideas  and 
national  institutions.     It  must  be  an  industrial  despotism, — a 
strange  anomaly.      Local  self-government  must  give  place   to 
centralization  of  national  power  ;  the  State  courts  be  sucked 
up   by  that   enormous    sponge,   the   Supreme    Court    of    the 
United  States ;  and  individual  liberty  be  lost  in  the  monstrous 
mass   of    democratic   tyranny.     Then   America  goes  down  to 
utter  ruin,  covered  with  worse  shame  than  is  heaped  on  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  ;  for  we  also,  with  horrid  indecency,  shall  have 
committed  the  crime   against   nature   in  our  Titanic  lust  of 
wealth  and  power. 

I.  Now,  I  see  no  likelihood  of  the  first  condition  being  ful 
filled.     Two  classes  rule  the  nation  :  — 

I.  The  mercantile  men,  who  want  money ;    and,  2,  The  po 
litical  men,  who  want  power.     There  is  a  strange  unanimity 
between  these  two  classes.     The  mercantile  men  want  money 
as  a  means  of  power :  the  political  want  power  as   a  means  of 
money.     Well,  while  the  Union  affords  money  to  the  one,  and 
power  to  the  other,  both  will  be  agreed  ;  will  work  together  to 
"  save  the  Union."     And  as  neither  of  the  two  has  any  great 
political  ideas,  or  reverence  for  the  higher  law  of  God,  both  will 
unite  in  what  serves  the  apparent  interest  of  these  two  :    that 
will  be  in  favor  of  slavery  and  of  centralized  power.      Every 
inroad  which  the  Federal  Government  makes  on  the  nation  will 
be  acceptable  to  these  two  classes. 

II.  Then,  considering  dissolution  as  out  of  the  question,  is 
freedom  likely  to  terminate  slavery  ?     It  was  thought  so  by  the 


444  THEODORE  PARKER. 

founders  of  the  Federal  institutions  and  by  the  people  at  large. 
Few  steps  were  taken  in  that  direction, — the  ordinance  of  1787, 
the  abolition  of  the  African  slave-trade :  that  is  all.  For 
forty-six  years,  not  a  step. 

III.  The  third  condition  is  the  one  now  most  promising  to  end 
the  matter.  See  the  steps  consummated,  or  only  planned :  i.  The 
Gadsden  Treaty;  2.  The  extension  of  slavery  into  Nebraska j 

3.  The    restoration  of  slavery   to  the  free  States,   either   by 
"  decision  "  of  the  Supreme  Court,  or  legislation  of  Congress  ; 

4.  Acquisition  of  Cuba,  Hayti,  &c.,  as  a  new  arena  for  slavery  ; 

5.  The  re-establishment  of  the  African  slave-trade;   6.    The 
occupancy  of  the   other  parts  of  North  America   and  South 
America.     When  all  this  is  done,  there  will  be  unity  of  action, 
unity  of  idea.     "  Auferre,   trucidare,  rapire  falsis    nominibus 
imperium  ;  atque  ubi  solitudinem  faciunt,  pacem  appellant." 

Now,  this  must  not  be.  It  must  not  be  !  The  nation  must 
rouse  itself.  I  have  been  waiting  a  long  time  for  some  event  to 
occur  which  would  blow  so  loud  a  horn  that  it  should  waken  the 
North,  startling  the  farmer  at  his  plough  and  the  mechanic  in 
his  shop.  I  believe  the  time  is  coming :  so  I  want  to  have  a 
convention  of  all  the  free  States  at  Buffalo  on  Tuesday,  the 
4th  of  July  next,  to  CONSIDER  THE  STATE  OF  THE  UNION, 
and  to  take  measures  (i)  to  check,  (2)  to  terminate,  the  enslave 
ment  of  men  in  America.  I  wish  you  would  advise  me  in  this 
matter ;  for  I  confess  I  look  to  you  with  a  great  deal  of  confi 
dence  in  these  times  of  such  peril  to  freedom. 

If  you  like,  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  show  this  letter  to 
Mr.  Chase  and  Mr.  Sumner.  Believe  me 

Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  John  P.  Hale. 

BOSTON,  May  23,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  HALE, — You  have  helped  me  in  many  emer 
gencies  ;  and  I  want  a  little  more  advice  just  now.  It  seems  to 
me  that  there  should  be  a  convention  from  all  the  free  States 
on  the  4th  of  July  to  organize  for  action  against  slavery  as  we 
have  never  done  before.  If  this  is  not  done,  we  are  ruined, 
and  the  country  becomes  one  great  slave  power.  I  suggest  a 
convention  at  Buffalo,  Pittsburg,  or  elsewhere,  to  consider  the 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  445 

present  alarming  condition  of  the  country,  and  to  take  measures 
(i)  to  check  and  (2)  to  terminate  this  matter  of  slavery.     If  the 
South  will  not  let  it  down  gradually,  we  must  let  it  down  by  the 
run.     Please  let  me  know  what  you  think. 
Yours  faithfully, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

Hon.  Mr.  HALE. 

To  Charles  Sumner. 

ST.  ALBANS,  VT.,  Feb.  16,  1856. 

DEAR  SUMNER,  —  The  petitions  are  all  going  very  well.  Tell 
me  any  thing  else  to  do.  I  wrote  to  Sandusky,  Milwaukee, 
Madison,  Syracuse,  and  divers  other  places,  and  got  the  thing 
started. 

Who  is  to  be  nominated  for  President?  —  by  the  Democrats, 
the  Republicans  ? 

Don't  forget  to  introduce  a  bill  providing  books  in  all  military 
ports  of  the  United  States. 

Yours  truly, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

Banks's  election  is  the  first  victory  of  the  Northern  idea  since 
1787. 

ToH.  Wilson. 

BOSTON,  July  7,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  WILSON,  —  I  cannot  let  another  day  pass  by 
without  sending  you  a  line  —  all  I  have  time  for  —  to  thank  you 
for  the  noble  service  you  have  done  for  the  cause  of  freedom. 
You  stand  up  most  manfully  and  heroically,  and  do  battle  for 
the  right.  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  enough.  You  do 
nobly  at  all  places,  all  times.  If  the  rest  of  your  senatorial  term 
be  like  the  past,  we  shall  see  times  such  as  we  only  wished  for, 
but  dared  not  hope  as  yet.  There  is  a  North,  a  real  North, 
quite  visible  now.  God  bless  you  for  your  services,  and  keep 
you  ready  for  more  ! 

Heartily  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  Passmore  Williamson,  Esq, 

DUBLIN,  N.H.,  Aug.  21,  1855. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  noble  action  and  the  wicked  treatment 
you  receive  for  it  give  me  the  right  to  address  you,  though  I  am 
38 


446  THEODORE  PARKER. 

an  entire  stranger.  I  cannot  forbear  expressing  to  you  my 
admiration  for  your  conduct,  and  the  hope  that  you  will  con 
tinue  faithful  and  undaunted  in  the  jail  which  the  infamous 
court  condemns  you  to.  I  wish  I  could  bear  a  part  of  the  suf 
fering,  and  so  relieve  you  from  a  little  of  that  pain  ;  but  I  can 
only  send  you  an  expression  of  my  heartfelt  sympathy,  and 
thanks  for  your  noble  manhood.  I  suppose  there  must  be 
much  more  imprisonment  and  other  judicial  outrage  before  the 
people  are  wakened  from  their  sleep.  May  endless  blessings 
be  upon  you  is  the  wish  and  prayer  of 
Yours  sincerely, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Charles  Sumner,  Washington. 

BURLINGTON,  VT.,  May  21,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  God  bless  you  for  the  brave  words 
you  spoke  the  other  day,  —  and  have  always  spoken,  —  of  which 
I  hear  report  in  the  papers  !  Send  it  to  me  in  full  as  soon  as 
you  can. 

I  have  been  ill  (in  head},  and  scarce  able  to  do  any  thing  for  a 
month ;  else  I  should  have  written  you  before  now.  I  am  a  little 
better  just  now  ;  but  still  my  head  feels  like  an  apple  which  has 
been  frozen  all  winter,  and  is  now  thawed  out.  I  am  in  Ver 
mont,  lecturing  on  the  condition  of  the  country.  Pierce  is  in 
open  rebellion  against  the  people  :  he  has  committed  the  high 
est  treason  against  the  people,  the  worst  form  of  llse-majestd. 

I  have  long  wanted  to  thank  you  for  your  services  in  that 
matter  of  the  Danish-Sound  affair.  It  is  quite  clear  that  you 
are  right ;  that  the  twofold  executive  —  presidential  and  senato 
rial  —  has  no  more  right  to  annul  a  treaty  than  to  annul  the 
tariff  law,  the  law  against  piracy,  or  any  other  statute.  Why  did 
nobody  ever  think  of  this  before  ? 

There  are  three  wicked  things  now  going  on  in  the  United 
States :  — 

1.  Exterminating  the  Indians  in  Oregon,  &c. 

2.  Filibustering  against  Central  America  "and  the  rest  of 
mankind." 

3.  Extending  slavery  into    Kansas    and    everywhere    else. 
Then,  I  take  it,  the  free-State  men  will  be  immediately  put 
down,  unless  Congress  comes  to  their  aid.    What  can  they  do 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  447 

—  a  handful  of  them,  without  arms,  no  officers  —  against  the 
border  ruffians,  eight  thousand  or  ten  thousand  strong,  armed 
by  the  United  States,  and  officered  by  the  soldiers  of  our 
wicked  army  ?  Can  nothing  be  done  at  Washington  ?  WiU 
nothing  arouse  the  people  at  the  North  ? 

Tell  me  what  you  think  of  the  candidates  for  Republican 
nomination  ?  Here  is  my  list  of  oreferences  if  I  could  make 
the  President :  — 

1.  Seward. 

2.  Chase. 

3.  Hale. 

But  I  take  it  none  of  these  could  be  elected  in  the  present 
state  of  affairs.     If  we  come  to  actual  war,  Seward  would  be 
chosen,  I  think ;  but  not  now,  in  the  present  state  of  things. 
Do  tell  me  how  far  is  Fremont  reliable  ?     God  bless  you  ! 
Ever  yours, 

THEO.  PARKER. 
I  shall  send  you  a  speech  before  long. 

To  Hon.  John  P.  Hale,  Washington. 

BOSTON,  May  23,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  HALE,  —  Do  write  and  tell  me  how  Sumner 
is  getting  on.  How  much  is  the  noble  fellow  wounded  ? 
Give  him  my  most  sympathizing  regards  and  love.  I  wish  I 
could  have  taken  the  blows  on  my  head,  and  not  he  ;  at  least, 
half  of  them.  Will  the  Senate  do  nothing  about  it  ?  Think  of 
the  scoundrel  Brooks  let  off  on  bail  of  five  hundred  dollars !  I 
shall  go  to  the  State  House  as  soon  as  the  House  meets  to  see 
if  I  can  stir  up  that  body  to  any  action  in  the  matter. 
Yours  truly  and  heartily, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

To  John  P.  Hale. 

GALESBURG,  Oct.  21,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  HALE,  —  I'm  glad  I  am  not  a  senator  this 
year.  You  win  your  "  Hon."  pretty  dear  this  season.  Stump 
ing  is  no  joke.  I  heard  your  opponent  this  afternoon,  —  Doug 
las.  He  was  considerably  drunk,  and  made  one  of  the  most 
sophisticated  and  deceitful  speeches  I  ever  listened  to.  It  was 
mere  brutality  in  respect  of  morals,  and  sophistry  for  logic,  in 
the  style  and  manner  of  a  low  blackguard. 


448  THEODORE  PARKER. 

His  enemies  said  he  seldom  or  never  did  so  ill.  But  there  is 
a  good  deal  of  rough  power  in  his  evil  face.  I  never  saw  him 
before. 

I  don't  know  how  you  think  the  election  will  turn  out ;  but  I 
look  for  defeat.  I  hope  otherwise,  but  still  think  so.  The 
battle  is  not  won  by  our  carrying  the  electoral  tickets  by  popu 
lar  vote.  If  Buchanan  gets  a  hundred  and  forty-eight  elect 
ors,  a  million  dollars,  I  think,  might  be  raised  to  buy  the  one 
hundred  and  forty-ninth.  I  think  there  are  thirty  men  in  Bos 
ton  who  would  give  five  thousand  dollars  apiece  to  see  it 
done.  It  is  the  most  important  crisis  in  our  national  history. 
No  presidential  election  ever  turned  on  such  great  questions. 
It  is  despotism  or  democracy  which  the  people  vote  for.  I 
wish  the  true  issue  was  represented  by  the  banners  and 
mottoes. 

Buchanan's  friends  would  bear  this  in  front  of  all :  "  No 
Unalienable  Rights  to  Life,  Liberty,  and  the  Pursuit  of  Happi 
ness  ;  "  "  The  Declaration  of  Independence  a  Lie  ;  "  "  No  Higher 
Law."  Then  might  follow,  in  historical  order,  "  Slavery  in 
Kansas,"  "  Slavery  in  Cuba,"  "  Slavery  in  all  the  Territories," 
"  Slavery  in  all  the  Free  States,"  "  Bondage  for  Niggers," 
"  Bondage  for  Poor  Whites,"  "  Slavery  for  '  Greasy  Mechan 
ics,' "  "No  Free  Schools,"  "No  Free  Press,"  "No  Free 
Pulpit,"  "No  Free  Speech,"  "No  Free  Man." 

If  Buchanan  is  President,  I  think  the  Union  does  not  hold 
out  his  four  years  :  it  must  end  in  civil  war,  which  I  have  been 
preparing  for  these  six  months  past.  I  buy  no  books  except 
for  pressing  need.  Last  year  I  bought  fifteen  hundred  dollars' 
worth :  this  year  I  shall  not  order  two  hundred  dollars'  worth.  I 
may  want  money  for  cannons.  Have  you  any  plan  in  case  we 
are  defeated  ?  Of  course  the  principles  and  measures  of  the 
administration  will  remain  unchanged,  and  the  mode  of  execu 
tion  will  be  more  intense  and  rapid.  God  save  the  United 
States  of  America ! 

Yours  faithfully, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

P.  S.  —  I  want,  before  you  go  to  Congress,  to  borrow  your 
copy  of  Force's  "  American  Archives  ;  "  also  I  want  you  to 
come  and  dine  with  me,  and  see  some  politicians. 


THE  KANSAS    WAR.  449 

The  Kansas  war  brought  to  the  front  a  colossal  figure,  — 
JOHN  BROWN.  This  would  not  be  the  place  to  tell  his 
story,  even  if  it  had  not  been  well  told  already  by  James 
Redpath,  and  partially  by  F.  B.  Sanborn  in  the  pages  of 
"The  Atlantic  Monthly"  of  April  and  July,  1872;  but 
something  must  be  said  about  him,  —  enough  to  throw  light 
on  the  character  of  his  friends,  especially  of  one  of  them, 
—  Mr.  Parker.  That  such  a  person  sought  Parker,  and 
was  trusted  by  him,  is  an  incident  worth  pondering  over. 
John  Brown  was  fifty-seven  years  old  when  Parker  first 
met  him.  He  had  lived  in  several  places  ;  had  engaged  in 
several  occupations  ;  had  experienced  changes  of  fortune  ; 
but  had  remained  himself  steadfast  and  unchangeable  in 
character.  The  State  of  Connecticut  gave  him  his  Puri 
tan  blood ;  Ohio  imparted  to  the  boy  the  influence  of  her 
territorial  and  social  breadth  ;  Massachusetts  made  the 
young  man  acquainted  with  the  highest  form  of  free  civil 
ization  ;  New  York  trained  the  man  of  middle  age  for 
the  work  he  was  set  to  do  ;  Kansas  gave  him  a  field  of 
operations  ;  Virginia,  a  chance  for  martyrdom.  Through 
the  kindness  of  a  kinsman,  he  was  educated  at  an  excel 
lent  private  school,  and  purposed  entering  the  ministry ;  but 
poverty,  and  weakness  of  sight,  compelled  him  to  abandon 
a  career  for  which  seriousness  of  mind,  and  weight  of 
character,  made  him  peculiarly  fit.  He  was  profoundly 
religious  after  the  old-fashioned  Orthodox  fashion  ;  had  an 
awful  sense  of  divine  realities,  and  an  implicit  faith  in  the 
divine  decrees.  The  Bible  was  to  him  God's  word  ;  life, 
God's  gift ;  eternity,  God's  recompense.  His  desire,  from 
the  first,  was  not  to  live  as  was  unseemly  in  the  presence 
of  eternal  law.  He  turned  from  the  ministry  with  regret, 
but  like  a  true  Puritan,  who  knew  that  the  ministry  was 
only  one  calling  out  of  many,  and  returned  to  his  original 
occupation  as  a  tanner ;  dropping  that  later  to  become  a 
shepherd  in  Ohio,  —  a  pursuit  which  has  had  fascinations 
before  for  men  of  high  resolves.  At  the  age  of  forty-six 
38* 


450  THEODORE  PARKER. 

we  find  him  in  Massachusetts  again  as  agent  of  the  Ohio 
sheep-farmers  and  wool-growers,  who,  wishing  to  establish 
a  connection  with  the  manufacturers  of  New  England, 
selected  Springfield  as  the  fittest  place,  and  Brown  as 
the  fittest  person  to  have  charge  of  the  enterprise.  The 
business  promised  well  at  first,  and  became  flourishing  ; 
but  from  various  causes,  which  need  not  be  detailed  here, 
weakened,  and  at  last  collapsed.  Brown  was  ruined,  and, 
after  three  years'  residence  in  Springfield,  in  1849  went  to 
the  Adirondack  region,  in  Northern  New  York,  there  to 
settle  up  his  wool-business,  renew  his  sheep-raising,  and 
teach  settlers  in  those  wild  regions  how  to  clear,  plant, 
and  farm  the  land  which  Mr.  Gerritt  Smith  had  offered  to 
give  by  thousands  of  acres  to  such  colored  people  as 
would  accept  them  and  live  on  them.  Not  many  availed 
themselves  of  the  gift ;  but  those  who  did  had  the  benefit 
of  Brown's  experience  and  care  as  long  as  he  could  give 
them. 

During  all  these  vicissitudes  he  was  cherishing  in  his 
heart  a  purpose  which  to  him  was  as  sacred  as  was  ever 
entertained  by  man :  this  was  nothing  else  than  the 
liberation  of  the  slaves  of  the  South.  To  say  that  he 
never  lost  sight  of  this  purpose  is  to  say  little.  He  chose 
his  occupations,  so  far  as  he  could,  with  a  view  to  the 
facilities  they  afforded  for  carrying  it  into  effect ;  looked 
out  at  once  to  discover  the  bearing  they  had  on  it ;  and 
seized  every  occasion  they  offered  for  promoting  it.  The 
occupation  of  shepherd  was  attractive  to  him,  as  promis 
ing  the  means  of  furthering  his  designs.  As  agent  of  the 
Ohio  wool-growers  in  Massachusetts,  he  sounded  for  in 
formation  that  might  help  him  in  his  projects ;  especially 
making  the  acquaintance  of  fugitives  from  slavery,  who 
might  be  made  useful.  Parker  says  in  a  letter  from 
Rome,  written  in  1859,  "  If  I  am  rightly  informed,  he  has 
cherished  this  scheme  of  liberating  the  slaves  in  Virginia 
for  more  than  thirty  years,  and  laid  his  plans  when  he 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  451 

was  a  land-surveyor  in  that  very  neighborhood  where  his 
gallows  (I  suppose)  has  since  grown."  Sanborn  declares 
that  his  object  in  retiring  to  the  solitudes  of  North  Elba 
was,  that  he  might  there,  away  from  observation,  muster 
and  drill  a  company  of  men  as  the  nucleus  of  his  army 
of  liberation.  The  sheep-raiser,  the  wool-factor,  the  farm 
er,  the  surveyor,  was  ever  the  emancipator  in  disguise. 
What  he  engaged  in  was  done  with  all  his  ability,  as  con 
scientiously  as  if  it  had  been  his  ultimate  business ;  but 
his  ultimate  business  was  to  set  free  the  captives. 

In  1851,  being  in  Springfield  on  incidental  affairs  con 
nected  with  his  wool  concerns,  he  assisted  in  organizing 
an  armed  resistance  to  the  Fugitive-slave  Bill,  then  re 
cently  passed;  and  drew  up  a  paper  containing  articles 
of  agreement,  which  were  signed  by  forty-four  men  and 
women,  white  and  colored,  most  of  the  latter  being  fugi 
tive  slaves  or  their  friends.  The  paper  has  "  words  of 
advice  "  that  ring  like  the  address  of  a  general  to  his 
army :  — 

"  Do  not  delay  one  moment  after  you  are  ready :  you  will 
lose  all  your  resolution  if  you  do.  Let  the  first  blow  be  the 
signal  for  all  to  engage  ;  and,  when  engaged,  do  not  do  your 
work  by  halves,  but  make  clean  work  with  your  enemies  ;  and 
be  sure  you  meddle  not  with  any  others.  ...  Be  firm,  deter 
mined,  and  cool ;  but  let  it  be  understood  that  you  are  not  to  be 
driven  to  desperation  without  making  it  an  awful  dear  job  to 
others  as  well  as  to  you.  .  .  .  Hold  on  to  your  weapons,  and 
never  be  persuaded  to  leave  them,  part  with  them,  or  have  them 
far  away  from  you.  Stand  by  one  another  and  by  your  friends 
while  a  drop  of  blood  remains,  and  be  hanged  if  you  must ;  but 
tell  no  tales  out  of  school.  Make  no  confession." 

Nine  years  later,  he  himself,  driven  to  bay,  observed 
these  directions  to  the  letter;  thus  showing  how  pro 
foundly  he  had  meditated,  and  how  sincerely  he  trusted 
to  them.  The  articles  of  agreement  exhibited  an  equal 


452  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ripeness  of  conviction.  He  held  himself  ready  at  any 
hour  to  inaugurate  his  grand  enterprise,  and  listened 
hourly  for  the  call  to  do  it.  During  the  Anthony  Burns 
excitement  of  1854,  he  was  with  difficulty  restrained  from 
going  to  Boston,  and  leading  an  attempt  at  rescue.  No 
sooner  was  Kansas  fairly  opened  to  emigrants,  than  his 
four  sons,  who  had  all  been  schooled  in  their  father's 
beliefs  and  imbued  with  his  resolution,  left  their  home  in 
Ohio,  and  repaired  thither  to  settle.  He  himself  went 
some  months  later,  having  affairs  to  attend  to  in  Massa 
chusetts  not  unremotely  connected  with  his  ulterior  ends. 
His  hour  seemed  hastening  on  ;  and  he  wanted  to  sound 
his  allies  once  more  before  the  struggle  came.  When 
he  joined  his  sons  in  the  autumn  of  1855,  ^  was  ^ess  w^tn 
the  design  of  establishing  himself  in  Kansas  as  a  peace 
ful  colonist  than  of  obtaining  a  basis  for  operations 
against  the  slave  power.  He  went,  not  as  a  civilizer,  but 
as  an  emancipator ;  not  as  a  farmer,  but  as  a  soldier. 
None  of  the  Kansas-Committee  money  went  into  his 
hands:  he  was  assisted  moderately  by  friends  in  New 
York,  but  for  the  rest  provided  his  own  commissariat,  and 
conducted  the  campaign  at  his  private  charge.  He  went 
alone,  having  removed  his  family  from  Ohio  to  North 
Elba ;  his  four  sons  only  being  his  comrades. 

He  established  his  headquarters  near  the  town  of 
Ossawattomie  ;  whither,  in  the  spring  of  1856,  his  other 
three  sons  and  his  son-in-law  joined  him.  The  name  of  the 
stern  old  man  first  became  famous  from  his  defence  of 
that  town  against  an  assault  of  the  "  border  ruffians  "  in 
August  of  that  year.  The  name  of  "  Ossawattomie  Brown  " 
was  known  throughout  the  country.  But  the  grand  oppor 
tunity  did  not  come  then.  There  was  bloody  work.  One 
son  was  slain  ;  another  wounded  ;  a  third  taken  prisoner, 
and  made  temporarily  insane  from  cruel  treatment :  all  of 
which  intensified  his  hatred  of  slavery  and  its  abetters. 
But  the  peculiar  combination  of  circumstances  his  plans 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  453 

demanded,  the  situation  in  Kansas  did  not  supply :  so  he 
came  away  in  the  autumn  to  make  fresh  surveys,  and  to 
acquire  new  resources.  He  came  to  Boston,  and  early  in 
January,  1859,  presented  himself  before  the  secretary  of 
the  State  Kansas  Committee  in  his  office  on  School 
Street.  There  was  little  need  to  tell  who  he  was,  or  to 
present  the  letter  of  introduction  from  Mr.  George  Walker 
of  Springfield,  who  knew  him.  The  fame  of  the  man  had 
gone  before  him.  His  appearance  was  his  testimonial. 
The  moral  grandeur  was  self-evident.  I  borrow  the 
account  of  Mr.  Sanborn,  the  secretary  to  whom  he  pre 
sented  himself :  — 

"  His  aspect  and  manner  would  have  made  him  distinguished 
anywhere  among  men  who  knew  how  to  recognize  courage  and 
greatness  of  mind.  He  was  then  in  his  fifty-seventh  year,  but 
active  and  vigorous  when  not  suffering  from  an  ague  con 
tracted  in  Kansas.  His  figure  was  tall,  slender,  and  command 
ing,  his  bearing  military,  and  his  garb  a  singular  blending  of 
the  soldier  and  the  deacon.  His  coat,  waistcoat,  and  trousers 
were  of  a  brown  color,  —  such  as  he  always  selected  when  pos 
sible,  —  and  of  a  cut  far  from  fashionable.  His  gray  overcoat 
was  of  that  shape  which  our  soldiers,  a  few  years  after,  made 
familiar  to  all  eyes  ;  and  he  wore  a  patent-leather  stock,  which 
also  suggested  the  soldier  of  former  years.  His  fur  cap  was 
more  in  keeping  with  his  military  overcoat  than  with  the  Sun 
day  suit  of  a  deacon,  which  he  wore  beneath  it.  His  face  was 
close  shaven,  displaying  the  force  of  his  firm,  wide  mouth  and 
his  positive  chin.  The  long  white  beard  which  he  wore  a  year 
or  two  later,  and  which  nearly  all  his  portraits  now  show,  added 
a  picturesque  finish  to  a  face  that  was  in  all  its  features  severe 
and  masculine.  His  eyes  were  of  a  piercing  blue-gray,  not 
very  large,  but  looking  out  from  under  brows 

'  Of  dauntless  courage  and  considerate  pride.' 

His  hair  was  dark  brown,  touched  with  gray,  short  and  bris 
tling,  and  shooting  back  from  a  forehead  of  middle  height  and 
breadth.  His  ears  were  large ;  his  frame  angular  ;  his  voice 


454 


THEODORE  PARKER. 


deep  and  metallic  ;  his  walk  positive  and  intrepid,  though  some 
what  slow.  His  manner  was  modest,  and,  in  a  large  company, 
even  diffident.  He  was  by  no  means  fluent  of  speech  ;  but  his 
words  were  always  to  the  point,  and  his  observations  original, 
direct,  and  shrewd.  His  mien  was  serious  and  patient  rather 
than  cheerful :  it  betokened  the  'sad  wise  valor'  which  Herbert 
praises  :  but  though  it  was  earnest,  and  almost  anxious,  it  was 
never  depressed.  In  short,  he  was  then  to  the  eye  of  insight 
what  he  afterwards  seemed  to  the  world,  —  a  brave  and  resolved 
man,  conscious  of  a  work  laid  upon  him,  and  confident  that  he 
should  accomplish  it."  * 

The  object  of  John  Brown's  visit  to  Boston  was  to 
obtain  control  of  some  two  hundred  Sharp's  rifles  be 
longing  to  the  Massachusetts  Committee,  to  enable  him  to 
defend  Kansas  from  invasion,  and  also  to  carry  the  war, 
if  advisable,  into  the  enemy 's  country.  All  that  that  meant 
he  kept  in  reserve ;  perhaps  had  not  settled  in  his  own 
mind :  though  it  is  far  more  than  probable  that  his  Vir 
ginia  plan  was  already  conceived.  He  frankly  said  that 
whatever  was  intrusted  to  him  must  be  intrusted  to  him 
unconditionally  ;  that  he  could  not  take  orders  from  any 
committee,  but  must  act  on  his  own  personal  responsi 
bility. 

Mr.  Sanborn,  deeply  impressed  by  the  aspect  and 
bearing  of  the  man,  spoke  of  him  to  Mr.  Parker,  and 
soon  after  took  him  to  Mr.  Parker's  house  in  Exeter 
Place.  There  he  met  Mr.  Garrison.  From  that  moment, 
it  would  seem,  the  Puritan  hero  made  the  rationalist 
minister  an  adviser  and  friend;  and  from  that  moment 
Mr.  Parker  became  one  of  those  who  helped  him  with 
counsel  and  with  money.  Brown  spent  portions  of  four 
months  in  Massachusetts ;  addressed  the  State  Legisla 
ture,  urging  an  appropriation  of  money  to  aid  the  emi 
grants  from  the  State  in  Kansas  ;  and  spoke  effectively  to 
a  large  audience  in  the  town-hall  of  Concord,  Mr.  Emer- 

*  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  April,  1872, 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  455 

son  and  Mr.  Thoreau  being  among  his  interested  hearers. 
Wherever  he  went,  he  made  the  same  impression.  Wher 
ever  he  told  his  story,  he  drew  listeners  to  him,  roused 
their  enthusiasm,  and  gained  their  faith.  Though  silent 
in  regard  to  his  ulterior  plans  and  secret  purposes,  he  did 
not  withhold,  even  from  public  assemblies,  the  avowal  of 
his  determination  to  attack  wherever  slavery  was  vulner 
able,  and  to  take  property,  or  even  life,  if  it  were  neces 
sary,  to  set  the  slaves  free. 

The  Massachusetts  Committee  gave  Capt.  Brown  undis 
puted  possession  of  the  arms ;  subject,  however,  to  future 
dispositions  of  the  committee  in  Boston ;  and  money  was 
placed  in  his  hands,  —  not  enough,  however,  to  equip  and 
maintain  his  company  of  men  :  and  he  went  back  to  his 
home  in  North  Elba,  saddened  by  his  partial  failure. 
Before  leaving  Massachusetts,  he  expressed  his  feelings  to 
Mr.  Parker  in  the  following  remarkable  paper,  which  is 
pasted  on  a  blank  page  in  the  journal :  — 

OLD  BROWN'S  FAREWELL  TO  THE  PLYMOUTH  ROCKS,  BUNKER- 
HILL  MONUMENTS,   CHARTER-OAKS,   AND 
UNCLE   TOM'S   CABINS. 

He  has  left  for  Kansas  ;  was  trying,  since  he  came  out  of 
the  Territory,  to  secure  an  outfit,  or,  in  other  words,  the  means  of 
arming  and  thoroughly  equipping  his  regular  minute-men,  who 
are  mixed  up  with  the  people  of  Kansas ;  and  he  leaves  the 
States  with  a  feeling  of  deepest  sadness,  that  after  having  ex 
hausted  his  own  small  means,  and,  with  his  family  and  brave 
men,  suffered  hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  some  of  them  sick 
ness,  wounds,  imprisonment,  cruel  treatment,  and  others  death  ; 
that  after  lying  on  the  ground  for  months  in  the  most  sickly, 
unwholesome,  and  uncomfortable  places,  with  sick  and  wounded, 
destitute  of  any  shelter,  and  hunted  like  wolves,  sustained  and 
cared  for  in  part  by  Indians  ;  that  after  all  this,  in  order  to 
sustain  a  cause  (which  every  citizen  of  this  glorious  republic  is 
under  equal  moral  obligation  to  do,  and  for  the  neglect  of 
which  he  will  be  held  accountable  to  God)  in  which  every  man, 


456  THEODORE  PARKER. 

woman,  and  child  of  the  entire  human  family  has  a  deep  and 
awful  interest ;  that  when  no  wages  are  asked  or  expected,  —  he 
cannot  secure  (amidst  all  the  wealth,  luxury,  and  extravagance 
of  this  "  Heaven-exalted  "  people)  even  the  necessary  supplies 
of  the  common  soldier. 

JOHN  BROWN. 
BOSTON,  April,  A.D.  1857. 

The  discouragement  was  natural.  For  nearly  twenty 
years  Brown  had  cherished  his  scheme,  and  been  watch 
ing  his  opportunity  to  carry  it  into  effect.  He  had  de 
voted  himself  and  his  family  to  it ;  he  had  cautiously 
taken  steps  to  interest  in  it  one  or  two  from  whom  he 
might  properly  expect  co-operation  ;  he  had  engaged  as 
drill-master  for  his  recruits  an  English  Garibaldian  whom 
he  found  giving  fencing-lessons  in  New  York  :  and  now, 
when  the  condition  of  things  in  Kansas  seemed  to  favor 
his  enterprise,  he  was  crippled  for  want  of  a  few  hundred: 
dollars  which  would  not  have  been  missed  by  the  donors, 
obliged  to  discharge  his  drill-master,  and  abandon,  for  the 
time,  his  project.  He  went  away  with  shut  lips,  divulging 
to  no  one,  not  even  to  Mr.  Parker,  the  secret  design,  the 
disappointment  whereof  gave  poignancy  to  his  grief.  But 
the  scheme  was  still  cherished  as  intently  as  ever.  In 
September,  1857,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Parker  that  he  was  in 
want  of  some  five  hundred  or  a  thousand  dollars  "for  se 
cret  service,  and  no  questions  asked."  He  had  no  news  to 
send  by  letter,  being  suspicious  of  the  United-States  mails. 
He  was,  in  fact,  a  man  gravely  suspected.  Rewards  were 
offered  for  him  ;  traitors  were  lurking ;  his  whereabouts 
had  to  be  concealed.  His  letters  were  sent  to  feigned 
addresses.  His  friends,  in  corresponding  with  one  another 
in  regard  to  him,  used  circumlocutions,  and  cloaked  their 
meaning  under  misleading  phrases,  speaking  of  their  "wool 
speculation"  and  the  "shepherd."  He  went  to  Iowa  again 
and  Kansas,  busy  with  his  plots. 

Whether  they  would  have  come  out  when  they  did,  but 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  457 

for  an  unforeseen  accident,  is  uncertain.  The  discharged 
Garibaldian  drill-master  was  angry,  and  made  a  noise  ; 
wrote  abusive  letters  to  Mr.  Sanborn,  Dr.  Howe,  and 
Charles  Sumner  j  denounced  Brown ;  charged  his  friends 
with  bad  faith  ;  and  threatened  to  expose  the  plot  of  which 
he  alone  was  informed.  He  did  not  actually  do  this  till 
nearly  two  years  later,  a  few  weeks  before  the  attack  was 
made  ;  but  he  created  uneasiness  and  suspicion  in  the 
minds  of  some  of  Brown's  friends,  which  made  explana 
tions  necessary.  Letters  written  to  him,  however,  did  not 
reach  him ;  for  he  had  again  left  Kansas,  and  was  setting 
his  face  slowly  once  more  towards  the  East,  whence,  in 
spite  of  his  former  disappointment,  he  still  looked  for 
aid.  Early  in  1858  the  following  letter  was  sent  to  Mr. 
Parker  from  Rochester,  N.  Y. :  — 

ROCHESTER,  N.Y.,  Feb.  2,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  again  out  of  Kansas,  and  am  at  this 
time  concealing  my  whereabouts  ;  but  for  very  different  reasons, 
however,  than  those  I  had  for  doing  so  at  Boston  last  spring. 
I  have  nearly  perfected  arrangements  for  carrying  out  an  im 
portant  measure  in  which  the  world  has  a  deep  interest  as  well 
as  Kansas,  and  only  lack  from  five  hundred  to  eight  hundred 
dollars  to  enable  me  to  do  so,  —  the  same  object  for  which  I 
asked  secret-service  money  last  fall.  It  is  my  only  errand  here : 
and  I  have  written  some  of  our  mutual  friends  in  regard  to  it ; 
but  none  of  them  understand  my  views  so  well  as  you  do,  and 
I  cannot  explain  without  their  first  committing  themselves  more 
than  I  know  of  their  doing.  I  have  heard  that  Parker  Pills- 
bury  and  some  others  in  your  quarter  hold  out  ideas  similar 
to  those  on  which  I  act ;  but  I  have  no  personal  acquaintance 
with  them,  and  know  nothing  of  their  influence  or  means. 
Cannot  you,  either  by  direct  or  indirect  action,  do  something  to 
further  me  ?  Do  you  not.  know  of  some  parties  whom  you 
could  induce  to  give  their  abolition  theories  a  thoroughly  prac 
tical  shape  ?  I  hope  this  will  prove  to  be  the  last  time  I  shall 
be  driven  to  harass  a  friend  in  such  a  way.  Do  you  think  any 
of  my  Garrisonian  friends,  either  at  Boston,  Worcester,  or  in 
39 


458  THEODORE  PARKER. 

any  other  place,  can  be  induced  to  supply  a  little  "  straw,"  if  I 
will  absolutely  make  "  bricks  "  ? 

I  have  written  George  L.  Stearns,  Esq.,  of  Medford,  and  Mr. 
F.  B.  Sanborn  of  Concord  :  but  I  am  not  informed  as  to  how 
deeply-dyed  abolitionists  those  friends  are  ;  and  must  beg  of 
you  to  consider  this  communication  strictly  confidential,  unless 
you  know  of  parties  who  will  feel  and  act,  and  hold  their  peace. 
I  want  to  bring  the  thing  about  during  the  next  sixty  days. 
Please  write  N.  Hawkins,  care  William  J.  Watkins,  Esq.,  Roch 
ester,  N.Y. 

Very  respectfully  your  friend, 

JOHN  BROWN. 

Letters  of  similar  purport,  adapted  to  the  supposed 
character  of  the  men  he  was  addressing,  were  written  to 
T.  W.  Higginson,  G.  L.  Stearns,  and  F.  B.  Sanborn.  The 
noble  and  beautiful  letter  addressed  on  Feb.  24  to  Mr. 
Sanborn  from  Peterborough,  N.  Y.,  and  by  him  sent  to  Mr. 
Parker,  among  whose  papers  it  was  found,  —  the  letter 
printed  on  the  fifty-third  page  of  "The  Atlantic  Monthly" 
for  July,  1872,  —  reads  like  the  message  to  a  trusted  but 
younger  and  less-experienced  soldier  than  Parker.  They 
all  spoke  of  an  important  undertaking,  —  "  by  far  the 
most  important  undertaking  of  my  whole  life  "  is  the  ex 
pression  he  uses  to  Mr.  Higginson,  —  but  furnished  no  pre 
cise  clew  to  its  character,  and  awakened  no  suspicion  of 
it.  On  the  i2th  of  February  Brown  wrote  again,  asking 
an  interview  at  a  friend's  house  in  Central  New  York.  He 
dared  not  pass  through  Massachusetts  to  come  to  Boston ; 
dared  not  be  seen  in  places  where  he  might  be  recognized, 
as  he  would  be  in  Springfield.  He  was,  for  good  reasons, 
in  hiding.  His  friends  in  Kansas  knew  nothing  of  his 
whereabouts.  He  did  not  venture  to  visit  his  wife  and 
children,  so  anxious  was  he  to  remain  concealed.  To  go 
to  Central  New  York  in  mid-winter  on  such  a  summons, 
for  a  purpose  so  undefined,  was  impossible  for  Mr.  Stearns 
or  Mr.  Parker.  Mr.  Higginson  also  found  it  inconvenient 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  459 

to  go ;  and  Mr.  Sanborn  went  alone,  hoping  and  expect 
ing  to  receive  a  full  explanation  of  the  charges  brought 
by  Hugh  Forbes,  "the  Garibaldian  drill-master,"  but 
scarcely  anticipating  any  thing  more  momentous.  There, 
on  the  evening  of  Washington's  birthday  (Feb.  22),  in  a 
letired  spot,  beneath  a  perfectly  loyal  roof,  to  a  few  tried 
and  trusty  people  the  Virginia  scheme  was  unfolded  in 
all  its  parts,  the  locality  illustrated,  the  provisions  and 
contingencies  explained,  the  movements  detailed,  the 
probable  or  possible  eventualities  confronted.  The 
whole  evening,  and  all  the  next  day,  the  discussion  went 
on  between  the  conspirator  on  the  one  side,  and  his 
astonished  and  half-dismayed  auditors  on  the  other ;  the 
old  hero  answering  questions,  meeting  objections,  quiet 
ing  doubts,  disarming  fears,  showing  himself  prepared 
at  all  points,  and  displaying  a  force  of  moral  conviction 
and  a  grandeur  of  religious  confidence  that  awed  and 
stilled,  if  they  did  not  convince.  If  it  was  impossible  to 
share  his  enthusiasm,  it  was  impossible  to  resist  its  in 
fluence. 

Sanborn  came  back  to  Boston,  and  lost  no  time  in  re 
porting  to  Messrs.  Parker  and  Higginson  the  result  of 
the  interview.  It  was  Parker  who  suggested  that  Brown, 
who  had  come  as  far  as  Brooklyn,  should  come  secretly  to 
Boston  for  an  interview.  He  did  so,  and  registered  him 
self  as  "  J.  Brown,"  on  March  4,  at  the  American  House 
in  Hanover  Street,  where  he  staid  in  strict  privacy  four 
days  ;  not  even  calling  on  Mr.  Parker  in  Exeter  Place  on 
Sunday  evening,  as  he  had  done  before.  One  of  the  first 
to  call  on  him,  and  promise  aid,  was  Parker,  who  after 
wards  met  there  in  consultation  Messrs.  Howe,  Higgin 
son,  Sanborn,  and  Stearns ;  the  latter  the  largest  supplier 
of  material  aid.  The  substance  of  those  deliberations  at 
the  American  House  has  never  been  divulged,  and  per 
haps  never  will  be.  That  Brown's  representations  made 
a  deep  impression  on  his  friends  is  evident  from  the  fact 


460  THEODORE  PARKER. 

that  they  agreed  among  them  to  raise  a  thousand  dollars 
for  him :  and  that  he  was  himself  encouraged  appears 
from  a  letter  to  Theodore  Parker,  written  at  his  hotel,  and 
conveyed  by  a  friend  to  Exeter  Place,  —  a  letter  printed  in 
Weiss  (ii.  p.  164),  begging  him  to  prepare  an  address  to 
the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  United-States  army,  ap 
pealing  to  their  feelings  of  humanity  and  their  sense  of 
right ;  and  a  "  similar  short  address,  appropriate  to  the 
peculiar  circumstances,  intended  for  all  persons,  old  and 
young,  male  and  female,  slaveholding  and  non-slavehold- 
ing,  to  be  sent  out  broadcast  over  the  entire  nation." 
Mr.  Parker  never,  so  far  as  is  known,  put  his  hand  to  this 
work.  But  his  intercourse  with  him  was  confidential :  he 
lent  him  helpful  books,  and  gave  him  the  benefit  of  his 
vast  information.  It  is  believed  that  he  was  intrusted  by 
Brown  with  incidents  of  his  plan  which  were  not  revealed 
to  others,  and  were  contemplated  rather  than  decided  on 
by  the  leader  himself.  All  seemed  to  be  going  well :  the 
greater  part  of  the  promised  money  was  collected,  enlist 
ments  of  men  were  getting  forward,  the  meditated  blow  was 
about  to  be  struck,  when  the  "  Garibaldian  drill-master  " 
interposed  again,  —  this  time  with  more  formidable  dem 
onstration.  He  had  learned  some  things  he  did  not  know 
before ;  among  these,  the  complicity  of  members  of  the 
Boston  Kansas  Committee  with  Brown:  and  he  insisted 
that  the  enterprise  should  be  stopped ;  that  confidence 
should  be  taken  from  Brown,  and  transferred  to  him  • 
otherwise  what  he  knew  should  be  given  to  the  public.  The 
committee  were  staggered.  Of  the  five  men  composing  it, 
three  —  Parker,  Sanborn,  and  Stearns  —  were  of  the  opin 
ion  that  the  blow  must  be  deferred.  Dr.  Howe  was  doubt 
ful.  Higginson  alone  sided  squarely  with  Brown,  who  was 
not  afraid  of  any  thing  Forbes  could  do ;  disbelieved  in  the 
extent  and  accuracy  of  his  information ;  and  was  inclined, 
on  the  whole,  to  think  that  the  vague  excitement  caused 
by  his  disclosure  would  favor,  rather  than  otherwise,  his 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  461 

undertaking.  Parker  was  ready  for  extreme  measures, 
accepted  Brown's  ideas,  sympathized  with  him  in  his 
moral  feelings,  was  expectant  of  uprisings  on  the  part  of 
the  slaves,  would  have  been  glad  to  see  them,  had  no 
scruples  in  aiding  them,  but  doubted  the  success  of  any 
first  attempt  to  incite  them  to  revolt.  In  his  judgment, 
there  must  be  several  such  before  one  succeeded ;  and  he 
was  not  enough  of  a  military  man  to  share  the  old  hero's 
conviction  that  Hugh  Forbes  would  do  more  to  make  the 
enterprise  prosper  than  to  make  it  fail. 

Brown  supposed  that  all  he  needed  was  a  few  hundred 
dollars.  Of  the  equipment  of  arms  he  felt  sure ;  for  were 
not  the  rifles  of  the  committee  in  his  possession  ?  They 
were,  but  still  under  the  committee's  ultimate  control,  to 
be  used  only  for  purposes  which  they  approved  of.  And 
when  Forbes  gave  information,  in  a  general  way,  to  Sena 
tors  Hale,  Seward,  and  Wilson,  of  Brown's  plans,  and  the 
complicity  of  members  of  the  committee  with  them,  and 
Wilson  wrote  to  Dr.  Howe,  strongly  protesting  against  the 
scheme,  deprecating  any  association  of  the  committee 
with  it,  and  urging  the  consideration  that  they  would  lay 
themselves  open  to  the  charge  of  bad  faith  if  they  per 
sisted,  affairs  came  to  a  pause.  The  rifles  did  not  then 
actually  belong  to  the  committee,  though  it  was  supposed 
they  did  ;  and,  as  Brown's  use  of  them  for  his  private  raid 
would,  in  the  public  estimation,  have  compromised  them,  it 
was  decided  that  operations  must  be  suspended.  Notice 
was  sent  to  Brown  that  the  rifles  must  be  used  only  in  the 
defence  of  Kansas ;  and  postponement  became  inevitable. 
This  obstacle  of  the  arms  was  soon  after  removed  by 
George  L.  Stearns,  their  actual  owner,  who  formally  put 
Brown  in  possession  of  them  as  his  private  agent ;  thus  re 
leasing  the  committee  from  all  responsibility  for  their  use. 
Brown  was  now  anxious  as  before  to  push  his  measures  to  a 
conclusion  :  but  his  friends  hung  back,  thinking  postpone 
ment  wiser;  and  1859  was  mentioned  as  the  better  time. 
39* 


462  THEODORE  PARKER. 

But  the  plan  was  not  abandoned,  nor  was  sympathy  with 
held.  More  money  was  promised ;  the  arms  were  fairly 
made  over  in  a  way  to  relieve  the  committee  of  all  embar 
rassment  ;  and  John  Brown  was  left  with  the  sole  respon 
sibility  of  the  enterprise,  deferring  to  nobody,  consulting 
nobody,  obliged  to  report  to  nobody,  at  liberty  to  keep  his 
designs  secret  even  from  those  who  thus  far  had  been 
most  in  his  confidence.  In  the  mean  time,  it  was  judged 
best  that  he  himself  should  appear  to  have  abandoned 
his  scheme,  and  should  throw  Forbes  off  the  scent  by 
returning  to  Kansas.  Thither  he  went  forthwith,  and 
performed  great  feats  there  in  the  way  of  border  warfare ; 
closing  the  whole  by  an  incursion  into  Missouri,  and  bring 
ing  away  a  party  of  slaves,  whom  he  carried  through 
Kansas,  Nebraska,  Iowa,  Illinois,  to  Detroit  in  Michi 
gan,  whence  he  easily  despatched  them  into  Canada.  It 
was  a  great  exploit,  that  made  the  country  ring.  This 
was  early  in  1859.  In  May  his  tall  form  was  seen  in  the 
streets  of  Boston,  calmly  walking  about,  unconscious  of 
the  stir  of  the  city,  like  a  man  absorbed  in  a  high  pur 
pose,  with  long  white  beard  and  slow  tread,  observed  by 
all  who  had  leisure  to  observe,  known  of  all  who  cared  to 
know  him,  unmolested  by  the  authorities,  fearless,  and 
apparently  careless,  but  mindful  of  the  price  that  had 
been  set  on  his  head,  and  armed  against  assault.  He 
was  there  to  see  his  friends,  collect  resources,  and  make 
final  preparations  for  the  enterprise  on  which  his  whole 
heart  had  been  set  for  twenty  years.  Theodore  Parker 
was  then  in  the  West  Indies  ;  the  house  in  Exeter  Street 
was  closed :  but  whether  at  Boston,  at  Santa  Cruz,  Mon- 
treux,  Rome,  the  brave  old  man  was  never  forgotten  by 
his  friend.  "Tell  me,"  he  asks  from  Rome,  "how  our 
little  speculation  in  wool  goes  on,  and  what  dividend 
accrues  therefrom."  No  one  more  eagerly  looked  for 
tidings  of  the  bold  adventure  ;  no  one  more  sincerely 
regretted  its  failure  ;  no  one  more  faithfully  bore  witness 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  463 

to  the  magnanimity  of  the  martyred  man,  more  frankly 
confessed  his  friendship  for  him,  or  his  approval  of  his 
deed.  Had  he  been  at  home,  Music  Hall  would  have 
been  filled  with  another  crowd  such  as  listened  to  the 
sermon  on  "  The  New  Crime  against  Humanity,"  and  they 
would  have  listened  to  another  thrilling  chapter  on  the 
same  theme.  How  he  wished  he  were  there  !  How  he 
fretted  under  the  conditions  that  forbade  his  speaking  his 
word,  and  standing  by  his  deed,  and  sharing  the  fortunes 
of  his  friends  !  The  Americans  about  him  gladdened  his 
heart  by  expressions  of  approval  of  the  gallant  attempt ; 
but  they  only  intensified  his  desire  to  unfold  its  deep 
lessons  to  his  countrymen  at  home,  confused  and  stag 
gered,  and  needing  more  than  ever  to  be  reminded  of 
eternal  principles. 

"  No  American  has  died  in  this  century  whose  chance  of 
earthly  immortality  is  worth  half  so  much  as  John  Brown's. 
The  ex-governors  of  Massachusetts  are  half  forgotten  before 
they  are  wholly  dead ;  rhetoricians  and  sophists  are  remem 
bered  while  they  are  talking :  but  a  man  who  crowns  a  noble 
life  with  such  a  glorious  act  as  John  Brown's  at  Harper's  Ferry 
is  not  forgotten  in  haste.  The  red  martyr  must  be  a  precious 
man. 

"  The  effect  is  not  over,  nor  ever  will  be.  Brown's  little 
spark  was  not  put  out  till  it  had  kindled  a  fire  which  will  burn 
down  much  more  than  far-sighted  men  look  for.  The  Northern 
sky  is  full  of  lightning  long  treasured  up :  Brown  was  one 
bright,  clear  flash  into  the  Southern  ground.  The  thunder 
rattles  all  over  the  Union  now :  there  will  be  other  strokes  by 
and  by." 

The  year  1857  was  marked  by  a  tremendous  financial 
convulsion,  that  covered  the  surface  of  the  commercial 
world  with  costly  ruins.  Mr.  Parker  was  not  an  unmoved 
spectator  of  the  calamity ;  but  he  was  a  clear-headed  and 
sound-hearted  one.  The  distress  afflicted  him:  but  he 
was  more  interested  in  the  causes  of  it  than  in  the  effects ; 


464  THEODORE  PARKER. 

and  the  causes  he  found  in  the  general  decay  of  personal 
honor  incident  to  the  want  of  great  religious  ideas.  So 
ciety,  to  his  view,  was  a  unit,  an  organized  whole,  rejoi 
cing  and  suffering  equally,  because  sympathetically,  in  all 
its  parts.  The  community  which  rejected  the  idea  of  a 
higher  law  in  politics  could  not  be  expected  to  acknowl 
edge  it  in  trade ;  nor  could  the  men  who  apologized  for 
slavery  in  order  to  secure  the  profits  of  the  Southern  mar 
ket  be  counted  on  to  observe  the  highest  rules  of  con 
science  in  their  commercial  struggle  for  the  wealth  they 
prized  so  highly.  The  "panic,"  like  the  strife  in  Kansas 
and  the  suppressed  war  in  Washington,  was  the  result  of 
false  ideas  of  God  and  man.  The  coming  of  it  was  inevi 
table,  and  might  have  been  predicted  :  the  lesson  of  it 
was  wholesome  ;  the  effect  of  it  would  be  good ;  but  the 
spectacle  of  it  was  awful.  On  the  i9th  of  October,  1857, 
he  writes  to  Miss  Hunt,  — 

"...  Now  a  word  about  Boston  and  its  affairs.  There  was 
never  so  much  mental  suffering  in  any  two  months  as  in  the 
last  five  weeks.  Think  of  men  who  never  thought  of  want,  ex 
cept  as  the  proud  angels  think  of  suffering,  —  as  something  fit 
only  for  the  Mower  classes,'  —  now  left  without  a  dollar  !  The 
man  who  refused  thirty  thousand  dollars  for  his  house  in  Tem 
ple  Place,  when  he  wanted  to  sell  before  he  went  to  Europe, 
saw  it  knocked  down  at  auction  for  nineteen  thousand  dollars. 
Michigan  State  bonds,  seven  per  cent,  have  gone  down  from 
a  dollar  twenty-five  to  sixty-six  cents.  Our  banks  have  been 
forced  to  suspend  specie  payments.  All  property  is  depreciat 
ed.  My  income  will  not  be  half  this  year  what  it  was  last. 
But  '  I  still  live  ; '  only  I  shall  buy  no  books  ;  and  it  makes  a 
great  gap  in  my  charities.  Some  banks  will  lose  much  on 
failed  paper.  After  a  kite  has  been  broken  to  pieces,  the 
shreds  are  not  worth  much.  I  believe  scarcely  any  house  has 
failed  in  Boston  which  ought  not  to  have  failed  before.  One 
firm  had  a  nominal  capital  of  two  million  dollars  ;  but  four  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  was  never  paid  in,  and  they  owed  that  to 
the  banks,  and  never  paid,  but  kept  renewing  their  notes.  An- 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  465 

other  had  only  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  but  business  to 
the  amount  of  three  million  or  four  million  dollars,  it  is  said. 
It  is  not  fair  to  fly  other  men's  paper  on  so  frail  a  kite. 

"  Business  stops  :  that  is  the  great  calamity.  It  is  hard  to  see 
great  estates  thus  changing  hands  ;  but,  though  it  impoverishes 
John  to  enrich  Timothy,  it  leaves  the  nation  just  as  rich  as  be 
fore.  But  the  nation  itself  grows  poor  when  its  labor  stops. 
The  property  of  Massachusetts  is,  say,  at  the  inflated  prices  of 
last  July,  one  billion  dollars,  —  a  tenth  part  of  the  worth  of  all 
the  real  and  personal  property  of  the  Union :  her  annual  earnings 
are,  at  least,  a  third  as  much,  —  three  hundred  and  thirty-three 
million  dollars.  To  stop  the  mills  and  shops,  you  see  how  soon 
we  should  be  poor.  Trade  languishes.  Waterman,  the  dealer 
in  kitchen-furniture,  commonly  sells  a  hundred  dollars'  worth 
in  a  day,  in  this  month ;  but,  in  the  six  days  of  last  week,  he 
took  only  fifty-nine  dollars.  A  friend  of  mine,  a  jeweller,  clears 
commonly  from  four  thousand  to  five  thousand  dollars  a  year  ; 
but  last  week  there  were  three  days  in  which  he  did  not  take  a 
dollar.  In  Lawrence  there  were  three  thousand  five  hundred, 
in  little  Taunton  one  thousand  five  hundred,  in  Natick,  in  one 
week,  two  hundred  men  without  work.  A  few  years  ago,  none 
would  have  thought  it  possible  that  a  grand-daughter  of  old 

and  a  grandson  of  old  would  have  been  prevented 

from  marriage  by  poverty;  but  now,  after  the  s  and  the 

s  have  both  fallen  in,  the  River  Pactolus  has  not  water 

enough  to  float  the  little  shallop  with  two  lovers  in  it,  —  chil 
dren  of  the  streams,  —  'he  this  side,  and  she  that.'  So  the  little 
skiff  goes  down  the  Pactolus  empty  and  whelmed  over,  while 
the  lovers  crawl  to  land  wet  and  cold,  —  '  he  this  side,  and  she 
that  side.'  Hundreds  of  marriages  will  thus  cruelly  be  pre 
vented.  Paper-money  has  a  good  deal  to  answer  for  ;  for  it  is 
that  which  causes  most  of  the  mischief.  There  is  a  hundred 
million  dollars'  worth  of  French  goods  now  in  New  York  which 
will  be  taken  back  to  Paris.  No  market  for  your  flowers  now, 
Mr.  Crapaud.  The  artificial  flowers  in  the  man-milliner's  win 
dows,  corner  of  Summer  and  Chauncy  Streets,  look  wilted: 
there  is  no  gum  or  starch  will  keep  their  spirits  up  in  these 
times. 

"  But  no  more  of  this.  The  country  is  full  of  bread  and  cloth. 
We  have  two  hundred  and  fifteen  millions  of  bank-bills,  fifty- 


466  THEODORE  PARKER. 

three  millions  of  specie  in  the  banks,  and  perhaps  a  hundred 
and  sixty  millions  more  of  specie  in  private  hands.  By  and  by 
all  the  prostrate  '  firms  '  will  be  up  ;  money  will  be  easy  ;  busi 
ness  will  begin  again ;  Pactolus  will  rise  ;  the  lover  will  swim  out 
and  right  the  little  skiff,  and  take  the  maiden  in  ;  and  then  the 
two  will  row  the  shallop  together  for  many  a  happy  day,  —  so 
they  will.  God  bless  them  ! 

"  .  .  .  '  Defalcations '  continue,  of  course  ;  for  the  doctrine 
of  no  '  higher  law '  must  produce  its  effects.  You  can  never 
escape  the  consequences  of  a  first  principle.  I  think  you  have 
heard  me  say  that  before.  What  a  terrible  logic  there  is  in  hu 
man  affairs  !  No  reasoner  is  so  consequential  as  mankind.  I 
think  we  shall  learn  much  from  this  crisis  ;  and  to  the  commu 
nity  it  will  be  worth  all  it  costs  the  individuals.  But  it  is  pain 
ful  to  see  the  soldiers  who  get  wounded  in  this  battle  of  in 
dustry.  Often  these  are  the  best  men  in  the  community.  There 

is    ,   the  founder    of    Warren-street    Chapel,    'has    done 

more,'  a  merchant  told  me,  *  for  the  rising  generation,  than  any 
ten  churches  in  Boston ; '  and  at  the  age  of  sixty  he  is  left 
without  a  cent." 

In  another  letter  to  the  same  correspondent,  dated  Bos 
ton,  Nov.  16,  1857,  he  moralizes  on  the  event  in  his  usual 
comprehensive  and  exhaustive  manner :  — 

"...  Great  pains  will  be  taken  to  do  all  that  charity  can  do. 
Impostors  are  already  abroad  to  feed  their  lazy  bones  on  the 
charity  of  self-denying,  honest  people.  I  hate  lazy  people,  and 
should  (perhaps)  see  an  idle  Irishwoman  starve  and  die  with 
no  compunction  at  all.  But  to  those  who  would  earn,  and  spare 
also,  I  open  my  heart.  We  have  the  old  charitable  societies  act 
ing  with  new  vigor,  and  also  a  committee  of  gentlemen  who  are 
to  devise  new  experiments.  Yankees  are  ingenious.  What  we 
want  is  work.  This  time  of  trouble  will  make  some  men  con 
sider  of  the  chaotic  condition  of  our  social  system,  this  antago 
nistic  competition  in  place  of  co-operative  industry  j  and  by  and 
by  a  better  state  of  things  will  come.  Man  is  not  yet  far 
enough  advanced  to  work  in  an  harmonious  organization  :  only 
self-love  can  now  command  the  labor  of  this  savage  animal. 
But  he  grows  wiser  and  better.  Now  not  a  word  more  of  this, 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  467 

What  an  odds  you  must  find  between  the  Italians  and  the 
Germans  !  This  difference  of  race  appears  in  all  the  action  of 
a  people,  —  in  its  literature,  art,  architecture,  music,  painting, 
sculpture,  science,  and  especially  in  its  government. 

"  There  are  inferior  races  which  have  always  borne  the  same 
ignoble  relation  to  the  rest  of  men,  and  always  will.  For 
two  generations,  what  a  change  there  will  be  in  the  condition  and 
character  of  the  Irish  in  New  England  !  But,  in  twenty  genera 
tions,  the  negroes  will  stand  just  where  they  are  now  ;  that  is,  if 
they  have  not  disappeared.  In  Massachusetts  there  are  no 
laws  now  to  keep  the  black  man  from  any  pursuit,  any  office, 
that  he  will :  but  there  has  never  been  a  rich  negro  in  New 
England ;  not  a  man  with  ten  thousand  dollars,  perhaps  none 
with  five  thousand  dollars  ;  none  eminent  in  any  thing  except 
the  calling  of  a  waiter.  Now  imagine  two  thousand  average 
Yankees  set  down  in  Constantinople  or  Canton  with  entire  free 
dom  for  all  manner  of  activities, — all  the  prizes  of  commerce, 
literature,  art,  science,  politics,  before  them.  How  long  do  you 
think  Jonathan  would  be  a  bootblack  or  a  waiter  ?  How  long 
before  the  Turkish  or  Chinese  money  would  be  in  Jonathan's 
pocket,  and  all  the  prizes  of  civilization  in  his  hands  ?  Not  two 
generations  would  pass  over  before  this  terrible  Yankee  superi 
ority  would  appear  in  the  facts  of  history.  That  is  the  strong 
est  case  which  can  be  found  of  national  difference.  But  Ger 
many  and  Italy  present  a  striking  example  of  it.  The  blue- 
eyed  Germans  have  been  masters  in  Italy  for  nearly  eleven 
hundred  years.  I  mean  Rome  has  been  subject,  more  or  less, 
to  Germany,  ever  since  the  Gothic  conquest  and  Odoacer's 
sack  of  Rome  in  A.D.  476.  The  two  people  have  been  side 
by  side,  running  the  race  of  power.  What  an  odds  between 
them  !  In  those  Italian  countries  where  the  Germans  mixed 
their  blood  with  the  old  populations,  there  came  up  adventurous 
mariners,  who  opened  the  way  to  the  new  worlds  of  the  East 
and  the  West ;  and  Gothic  architecture  got  planted  there.  But 
at  Venice,  Florence,  Milan,  the  religious  tree  of  the  Germans 
could  never  reach  the  vast  height  and  wonderful  proportions  it 
shot  up  to,  spontaneous,  in  its  native  North,  where  the  breath 
of  the  people  gave  life  to  its  great  stem,  and  individuality  to 
every  leaf.  The  rich  buildings  of  these  cities  are  a  compromise 
of  the  German  and  the  Italian  mind. 


468  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"At  the  time  of  the  revival  of  letters,  say  1400  to  1500, 
see  what  a  different  turn  the  two  nations  took !  The  classic 
authors  of  Greece  and  Rome  came  back  to  both.  The  Ital 
ians  took  to  art,  painting,  sculpture,  and  rested  in  objective 
beauty.  It  satisfied  them,  or  most  of  them.  Michael  Angelo 
was  never  content  with  that :  all  he  ever  did  (except  his  David) 
indicates  a  yearning  after  something  higher  and  better  than  ob 
jective  art.  But  quite  soon  that  uplifting  of  the  soul  which 
appears  in  old  Italian  art ;  that  struggle  with  the  flesh,  and 
yearning  after  God,  so  apparent  in  the  pre- Raphael  artists,  and 
which  they  had  caught  from  their  contact  with  the  austere 
spirit  of  mediaeval  Christianity  hovering  over  the  land,  —  all 
this  disappears.  Italy  settles  down  into  content  with  objective, 
actual  beauty.  No  more  deep  thinkers  ;  no  more  grand  poets  ; 
not  a  great  preacher  in  the  Italian  Church.  The  spread  of 
knowledge  woke  nothing  deeper:  it  provoked  no  revival  of 
religion ;  nay,  it  woke  no  love  of  liberty,  which  once  created 
great  men.  All  her  great  minds  —  they  were  born  fast  enough 
—  turned  off  to  material  science,  and  then  did  not  dare  claim 
the  great  freedom  they  knew  was  their  birthright.  Galileo,  on 
his  knees  confessing  a  lie  to  men  who  .also  knew  it  was  a  lie 
he  confessed,  is  a  representative  picture  of  Italy. 

"  Now  look  at  the  Germans.  Charlemagne,  a  great  German, 
a  Frank,  sought  to  found  schools.  Rabanus  Maurus  begins  to 
organize  popular  education  among  his  countrymen  in  804. 
The  spark  they  kindled  became  a  fire  which  always  smouldered 
in  the  German  forest,  and  sometimes  broke  out  into  a  light 
blaze.  By  and  by  a  German  has  invented  printing ;  and,  be 
fore  long,  there  are  presses  in  all  the  great  German  towns  ; 
yes,  Germans  printing  in  all  the  great  Italian  towns,  and  some 
of  the  little  ones,  like  Aquila  and  Soncino.  When  the  revival 
of  letters  takes  place  in  Germany,  there  is  a  revival  of  religion 
along  with  it.  Men  turn  inward  their  eye,  and  ask  not  mere 
beauty,  but  also  truth  and  piety. 

"Since  then  —  say  since  1517  —  what  a  difference  in  Italy 
and  Germany  !  One  believes  in  salvation  by  the  masquerading 
of  the  Church,  by  the  ritual  which  the  priests  say  over  in  Latin  ; 
the  other  in  salvation  through  faith  in  Christ,  —  an  internal 
matter,  personal  to  each  believer.  There  is  vicarious  suffering, 
but  no  vicarious  faith. 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  469 

"  Luther  was  a  good  type  of  Germany,  —  immensely  strong 
in  power  of  instinct,  reflection,  will,  but  rough  and  uncultivated ; 
Leo.  X.  a  good  type  of  Italy,  —  of  noble  birth,  supple,  astute, 
deceitful,  given  to  lies,  licentious,  atheistic,  effeminate  in  all 
things,  an  amateur  even  in  his  lust,  not  capable  of  strong, ' 
manly  love. 

"  Since  then,  look  at  the  men  who  have  come  of  the  Teutonic 
stock  !  —  Bacon,  Leibnitz,  Newton,  Locke,  Hume,  Kant,  Hegel, 
Shakspeare,  Milton ;  not  to  name  their  equals,  but  in  other  de 
partments  of  thought.  What  has  Italy  to  show  ?  Look  at  the 
mass  of  the  Teutonic  people  in  Germany,  Scandinavia,  Anglo- 
Saxondom,  and  compare  them  with  the  fifteen  million  Italians. 
Compare  the  light  wit  of  the  two  nations,  —  the  Pasquinades  of 
Italy  with  the  Reineke  Fuches  and  the  Narren  Schiffs  of  old  time, 
or  the  Punch  and  K ladder adatsch  of  our  own  day  ;  and  in  these 
little  grimaces  of  the  people  you  see  the  frivolity  of  the  Italian 
slave,  and  the  grim  earnestness  of  the  Teutonic  freeman. 

"  Look  at  the  Italians  and  Germans  in  America,  and  see  what 
a  difference  !  The  Italian  is  a  trader,  a  musician ;  while  the 
German  is  a  professor  in  the  college.  How  deeply  rooted  these 
things  are  !  Ineffaceable  is  the  difference. 

"  I  like  not  much  the  modern  German  art :  it  is  rich  in  techni 
cal  skill;  poor  in  artistic  life.  It  is  an  imitation  of  an  imitation. 
I  refer  to  the  Diisseldorf  school  as  the  typical  example.  But 
go  back  to  the  German  art  which  came  out  of  the  less-cultivated 
men,  like  Albrecht  Diirer,  Cranach,  and  the  like,  and  you  see 
these  men,  all  full  of  the  yearning  after  noble  things,  with 
their  pencil  seek  to  translate  the  instinct  of  the  people  into  ar 
tistic  expression. 

"  Compare  Beethoven's  or  Mozart's  music  with  Rossini's  or 
Verdi's,  and  you  hear  and  feel  what  elsewhere  you  see  and  think. 

"  The  Germans  just  now  are  charged  with  atheism  :  so  are 
the  men  of  science  in  England  and  America  ;  that  is,  the  men 
who  think.  Certainly  they  are  full  of  doubt.  But  what  a 
difference  between  the  atheism  of  grim,  resolute  thought,  and 
that  of  easy  indifference  !  —  nay,  between  the  atheism  which  is 
only  the  failure  of  a  great,  earnest  endeavor,  and  the  '  belief* 
of  a  man  who  don't  care  enough  to  think  whether  the  priest 
tells  truth  or  no  !  The  credo  of  a  fool  is  not  worth  the  abnego 
or  dubito  of  a  man." 
40 


470  THEODORE  PARKER. 

When,  two  years  later  (in  1859),  the  Pemberton  Mill  at 
Lawrence,  Mass.,  —  a  vast  structure  many  stories  high,  — 
fell,  causing  great  loss  of  life,  he  reflected  thus  on  the 
catastrophe  in  a  letter  from  Rome  to  his  friend  Mr. 
Manley :  — 

"  What  a  ghastly  affair  was  that  at  Lawrence  !  —  nearly  as 
many  killed  and  wounded  as  the  Americans  lost  at  Bunker 
Hill.  These  battles  of  industry,  also,  have  their  victims.  I 
see  they  had  a  day  of  religious  observance  at  Lawrence  on  the 
occasion,  and  am  glad  of  it.  It  is  natural  for  us  in  our  sorrow, 
as  in  our  joy,  to  flee  to  the  Infinite  for  consolation  and  hope. 
But,  alas  !  how  few  ministers  there  are  who  can  see  and  tell  the 
causes  of  this  disaster  in  human  ignorance  and  cupidity  ;  its 
function  to  tell  us  of  the  error  we  commit,  and  warn  us  against 
repeating  it ;  and  its  consequence,  full  of  beneficence  and  man's 
triumph  over  the  elements  !  These  hundreds  of  innocent  people 
died,  not  one  of  them  forgotten  before  God  :  they  slept  in 
heaven  instead  of  a  factory  boarding-house ;  and  woke  next 
morning,  not  to  the  sharp  ring  of  the  mill-bell,  but  to  the  glad 
some  call,  '  Come,  ye  beloved  !  enter  ye  into  the  joy  of  your 
Lord  ! ' 

"  But  their  death  is  not  in  vain  on  earth  :  they  fell  as  the 
New-England  soldiers  fell  in  our  defeats  at  Bunker  Hill  and 
White  Plains,  and  many  another  fatal  battle-field ;  but  all  helps 
to  the  great  victory  which  is  to  come.  Harsh  words  are  said 
against  the  mill-owners,  builders,  &c.  They  did  the  best  they 
knew,  risking  their  money  and  reputation  on  the  factory.  They 
certainly  constructed  ill.  The  walls  of  this  house  I  live  in  are 
thicker  in  the  fifth  story  than  the  Pemberton  Mills  in  the  first, 
and  solid  too.  Americans  are  careless,  and  must  suffer  until 
they  learn  prudence.  Conform  to  natural  law,  and  it  shall  be 
well  with  thee  :  that  is  the  language  of  all  '  accidents.'  " 

In  this  general  connection  we  may  read  another  letter 
to  Miss  Hunt,  from  Boston,  bearing  date  June  3,  1858 :  — 

"  DEAR  SARAH,  —  I  have  just  read  your  sweet  little  letter 
of  May  13,  full  of  profound  and  just  remarks  on  English  and 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  471 

American  people.  I  quite  assent  to  all  you  say  of  the  English. 
Their  national  pride  is  immense;  so  is  their  personal  pride  : 
but,  unlike  the  French  and  the  Americans,  they  have  little  na 
tional  vanity,  little  personal.  Insolent  they  truly  are  as  a  nation 
and  as  individuals,  incapable  of  appreciating  other  nationali 
ties  and  individualities. 

"But,  with  all  the  faults  of  the  Islanders,  I  like  the  creatures. 
We  are  of  the  same  stock,  and  have  the  same  great  problems 
to  work  out  in  the  civilization  of  mankind  ;  viz. :  I .  To  organize 
the  powers  of  Nature  for  the  service  of  man  ;  2.  To  organize 
the  social  powers  of  humanity,  so  as  to  have  national  unity  of 
action  ;  3.  To  develop  the  individual  man  into  a  great  variety  of 
forms.  These  are  the  three  great  problems  of  civilization. 
England  and  America  work  thereat  side  by  side,  both  uncon 
scious  that  they  are  factors  in  this  great  product  of  humanity. 
I  love  the  Germans.  As  a  family  of  men,  they  do  immense 
service  to  mankind.  They  are  not  diffusive,  but  deep,  —  wells 
dark,  cool,  mysterious  (you  can  see  stars  from  their  bottom 
at  noonday),  never-failing  ;  while  the  English  are  a  wide  lake, 
full  of  green  islands,  varied  in  form,  green  with  life,  but  not 
deep;  and  the  Americans  are  a  river,  never  still,  noisy  and  tur 
bulent,  dirty,  but  bearing  fertility  in  this  very  mud  which 
troubles  the  stream  ;  now  spreading  into  rich  lakes  bigger  than 
the  island  which  holds  that  British  pond  ;  now  laughing  in 
waterfalls,  which  one  day  will  turn  the  mills  of  all  the  world ; 
then  flattening  out  into  dull  lagunes,  where  only  the  alligator 
and  the  snapping-turtle  can  live,  and  watering  marshes  which 
reek  with  slavery ;  then,  anon,  gathering  its  waters  into  one 
deep,  wide  channel,  where,  laden  with  the  fleets  of  commerce 
going  out  and  coming  in,  it  flows  tranquil  on  to  the  ocean, 
whence  all  wells,  lakes,  and  rivers  are  at  first  supplied,  and 
whither  they  all  at  last  return. 

"  I  don't  like  to  judge  Russia  by  the  counts  I  meet  at  water 
ing-places,  with  their  seal-rings  of  Siberian  gold  on  their  fore 
fingers,  drinking  the  finest  brandy,  and  passing  their  nights 
in  unmentionable  riot,  after  buying  flowers  for  some  modest 
English  or  French  or  German  or  Italian  maiden  they  have 
talked  with  by  day  in  her  own  language,  not  well,  but  plain. 
I  would  not  measure  Judaea  by  the  Hebrew  peddlers  on  the  Rue 
de  Pots  de  Fde  at  Paris,  or  on  the  Exchange  at  London,  Leipsic, 


472  THEODORE  PARKER. 

or  Amsterdam ;  and  they  are  peddlers  in  all  these  places,  whether 
they  cry,  'Marchand  de  drap  /'  or  loan  money  by  the  million 
to  Austria  and  France.  I  would  not  judge  France,  England, 
Germany,  America,  by  the  creatures  you  meet  at  hotels,  thea 
tres,  and  watering-places,  &c.  But  I  look  and  see  what  Russia 
has  done  in  two  centuries  :  what  Judaea  was  in  her  glory,  when 
Rachel  bore  patriarchs  and  prophets,  —  a  Moses,  a  David,  an 
Isaiah,  a  Jesus,  and  a  Paul ;  nay,  what  she  has  done  when  all 
other  nations  have  hated  her.  I  see  what  Germany  has  done 
and  is  doing:  I  look  at  gunpowder,  the  printing-press,  the 
deepest  service,  the  richest  literature,  the  most  symbolic  and 
suggestive  art,  in  the  world  ;  a  religion  which  produces  a  Lu 
ther,  a  Bohme,  a  Schleiermacher,  which  comes  out  in  Leibnitz, 
Kant,  Hegel,  Humboldt.  I  see  what  England  has  done  for 
human  liberty  and  human  law  in  a  thousand  years  :  I  see  the 
immense  spread  of  her  stock  in  America,  —  we  are  bone  of  her 
bone,  flesh  of  her  flesh,  soul  also  of  her  soul,  —  in  Asia,  Africa, 
and  all  the  islands  of  the  deep.  I  look  at  France,  and  see  what 
she  once  did  for  civilization  from  700  to  1600,  and  her  influence 
since  in  making  the  deep  truths  of  science  intelligible  to  all 
thoughtful  men,  and  her  skill  in  all  that  pertains  to  the  terrible 
art  of  war  and  the  graceful  arts  of  pleasure :  for  France  is  a 
CAT,  the  genteelest  of  all  animals,  with  her  pas  de  velours;  and 
the  most  ferocious,  with  her  deceitful  griffe,  and  her  wonderful 
power  of  centralizing  thought,  law,  and  all  authority.  And  for 
these  things  I  judge  all  nations.  Poor  Italy  !  poor  Spain  ! 
theirs  is  the  fate  of  Asia  Minor,  of  Egypt,  —  the  dead  nation : 
no  resurrection  can  lift  it  up. 

"  If  England  or  France  should  possess  Italy,  there  would  be 
a  renewing  life  ;  but  it  would  not  be  Italian,  only  in  Italy.  As 
when  a  young  man,  poor  and  vigorous,  but  with  no  honest 
scruple,  or  with  nature  too  much  for  conscience  and  will,  mar 
ries  an  old  rich  woman,  bed-ridden,  but  with  wealthy  crutches 
to  hold  her  up  for  the  benediction  of  the  priest  (not  to  the  fire 
of  the  lover),  she  sees  new  life  around,  and  hears  the  laugh, 
ere  long,  of  children  not  her  own;  so  will  it  one  day  be  with 
Italy,  so  with  Spain.  It  is  a  curious  law  of  nature,  —  the  strong 
displaces  the  weak. 

"  In  New  England  there  are  two  natural  grasses  for  the  open 
field,  —  the  red-top  and  the  white  clover,  both  equally  strong  and 


THE  KANSAS  WAR.  473 

vivacious.  The  famer  sows  two  other  grasses  together,  —  red 
clover  and  herds-grass,  —  the  first  a  weak  grass,  the  last  a  strong 
one.  The  first  year  the  field  is  red  with  clover,  the  herds-grass 
does  not  appear  ;  next  year  there  are  but  bunches  of  red  clover 
here  and  there  ;  the  third  year  the  strong  herds-grass  has  killed 
it  all.  But  little  by  little  the  native  grasses,  stouter  than  what 
he  scattered  there,  come  up,  and  in  a  few  years  have  killed  out 
all  the  other  from  the  soil.  Thus  the  white  man  kills  out  the 
red  man  and  the  black  man.  When  slavery  is  abolished,  the 
African  population  will  decline  in  the  United  States,  and  die  out 
of  the  South  as  out  of  Northampton  and  Lexington.  It  is 
just  so  with  youth  and  age  in  the  market.  Let  a  man  of  seventy 
and  a  boy  of  twenty  go  into  business  in  the  same  city,  with  the 
same  little  capital :  in  five  years  the  young  man  will  run  him 
out  of  the  market,  and  get  away  all  his  customers.  So  is  it  with 
the  nations." 

The  problem  of  American  destiny  was  forever  on  his 
mind :  — 

"  I  don't  know  but  these  Paddies  are  worse  than  the  Africans 
to  the  country.  We  made  a  great  mistake  in  attracting  them 
here,  and  allowing  them  to  vote  under  less  than  twenty-one 
years  of  quarantine.  Certainly  it  would  take  all  that  time  to 
clean  a  Paddy,  —  on  the  outside,  I  mean :  to  clean  him  inwardly 
would  be  like  picking  up  all  the  sands  of  Sahara.  There  would 
be  nothing  left  when  the  sands  were  gone. 

"  It  is  amazing,  the  corruption  of  America  !  Power  is  always 
abused  in  Church  or  State.  One  of  the  most  sensible  men  I 
know  said  to  me  the  other  day,  *  It  makes  me  think  we  have 
made  a  mistake  ;  that  we  had  better  have  a  nobilitary  class,  who 
are  above  these  bitter  squabbles  about  office  and  money,  and 
also  a  queen-bee  in  the  hive,  as  still  in  England : '  but  added, 
'if  they  would  do  any  better?  But  our  safety  consists  in  going 
through  this  Red  Sea  of  transition,  not  turning  back  to  Egypt. 
We  shall  go  through,  not  without  manifold  trouble.  Guizot 
says,  *  God  has  made  the  terms  of  national  welfare  more  diffi 
cult  than  any  nation  is  willing  to  believe.'  How  true  it  is  !  But 
these  are  yet  the  easiest  conditions  which  are  possible  to  infinite 
perfection.  .  .  .  Sumner  never  took  so  deep  an  interest  in 
America,  was  never  so  regardless  of  personal  consequences,  as 
40* 


474  THEODORE  PARKER. 

now."  (This  was  written  in  December,  1857.)  "  The  age  never 
needed  him  more.  I  seldom  covet  any  man's  position  :  I  am 
quite  satisfied  with  my  own.  But  I  should  like  to  be  in  the 
United-States  Senate  this  winter.  I  should  like  to  make  four 
speeches,  —  on  Kansas  and  its  affairs,  on  the  national  conduct 
towards  feeble  States,  on  the  Dred  Scott  decision,  and  on  the 
general  conduct  of  the  Federal  Government  for  the  last  dozen 
years.  But  I  should  rather  Sumner  would  do  it  than  I ;  rather 
any  one  would  do  it.  I  want  it  done ;  and,  lacking  a  better, 
would  do  my  possible.  Don't  think  I  desire  such  a  place,  or 
would  accept  it  were  it  offered.  There  is  only  one  position  in 
fancy  which  I  should  prefer  to  the  present  one  ;  that  is,  a  great 
quiet  house  in  the  country  a  few  miles  off,  where  I  could  write 
the  books  which  still  burn  in  my  brain.  Perhaps  I  shall  have 
it  one  day  ;  but  who  knows  ?  I  think  '  circumstances '  are  wiser 
than  I  ;  certainly  stronger." 

As  early  as  1844,  he  wrote  from  Rome  to  a  friend,  Mr. 
J.  H.  Billings  of  West  Roxbury,  — 

"  I  think  we  live  in  a  time  when  it  is  a  man's  DUTY  to  attend 
to  political  affairs.  If  good  men  neglect  their  country,  the  bad 
will  have  it  all  to  themselves,  and  a  sad  time  we  shall  have  of  it. 
We  certainly  have  much  to  fear  ;  not  so  much  from  a  tariff  party 
or  an  anti-tariff  party  as  from  an  ignorant  people  and  corrupt 
leaders.  The  strength  of  the  country  is  such,  and  the  energy 
of  the  people  so  great,  where  such  opportunities  are  left  for 
individual  freedom  and  enterprise,  that  neither  John  Tyler  nor 
John  Calhoun  could  do  us  any  great  harm  in  four  years  ;  but, 
unless  we  become  a  wiser  people  and  a  7nore  moral  people,  we 
may  give  over  the  dream  of  governing  ourselves,  and  be  ruled 
by  bayonets  and  a  despot.  The  little  I  can  do  to  aid  the 
country,  therefore,  will  be  rather  in  attempting  to  promote  edu 
cation  —  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  education  —  every 
where,  and  for  all  men,  than  in  joining  in  the  measures  of  either 
party." 

To  Miss  Hunt. 

MARCH  23,  1858. 

.  .  .  The  Devil  of  slavery  now  manifests  himself  in  great 
wrath  because  he  knows  that  his  power  is  short.  Banks  says 


THE  KANSAS   WAR.  475 

there  is  not  a  politician  he  knows  in  the  South  who  thinks 
slavery  will  last  forty  years  in  any  slave  State.  But  how  the 
government  fights  for  it !  how  the  hunkers  at  the  North  !  No 
foolish  mother  ever  more  seriously  turned  off  her  only  son,  and 
cuddled  her  monkey  close  to  her  breast.  If  we  behave  well,  by 
the  4th  of  July,  1876,  we  shall  extirpate  slavery  from  South 
Carolina,  its  last  stronghold.  I  don't  believe  we  shall  ever  see 

another  slavery  President. 

JULY  12,  1858. 

.  .  .  The  slave  power  pushes  things  on  rapidly.  In  Virginia 
the  court  decides  that  a  slave  has  no  legal  rights  to  choice.  A 
woman  left  money  to  her  slaves  on  condition  that  they  would  be 
emancipated  by  their  consent.  The  court  decided  against  the 
will :  so  the  slaves  get  neither  freedom  nor  money.  Louisiana 
has  just  passed  a  law  forbidding  free  blacks  to  come  in,  and 
banishing  all  who  are  there  now  against  the  law.  If  they  are 
found  after  July,  1859,  they  are  to  be  sold  as  slaves  forever. 
Soon  they  will  attempt  to  re-enslave  all  the  free  blacks.  Great 
efforts  are  making  to  restore  the  African  slave-trade.  Hundreds 
of  American  vessels  are  in  it  now  :  the  government  does  noth 
ing  against  them  ;  will  do  nothing.  THE  END  DRAWS  NEAR. 
But  some  contingency  may  alter  things.  In  1856  we  were  quite 
close  to  a  civil  war.  Had  the  governor  of  Kansas  done  as  he 
was  bid,  and  not  resigned,  and  taken  the  free-State  side,  the  war 
would  have  begun  then.  I  think  we  shall  never  see  another 
slave  President.  Still  I  may  easily  be  mistaken.  I  should  like, 
of  all  things,  to  see  an  insurrection  of  the  slaves.  It  must  be 
tried  many  times  before  it  succeeds,  as  at  last  it  must. 

He  was  thinking,  when  he  penned  that  sentence,  of  John 
Brown  and  his  enterprise,  of  which  he  thinks  a  good  deal, 
but  dares  say  nothing,  even  to  these  most  intimate  of  his 
friends  in  Europe.  In  all  his  letters  the  name  is  not  once 
mentioned  ;  nor  would  any  suspect  that  his  thoughts  were 
so  full  of  the  man  from  whom  he  hoped  so  much.  Parker 
knew  how  to  keep  a  secret. 

From  the  Journal. 

"  We  understand  a  little  of  the  evils  of  war ;  only  a  little  : 
the  evils  of  wicked  legislation  in  times  of  peace  we  know  less 


476  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of.  The  English  corn-laws  in  thirty  years  retarded  the  prog 
ress  of  mankind  in  that  country  more  than  all  the  wars  of 
Napoleon.  In  America  the  legal  continuance  of  the  slave- 
trade  for  twenty  years,  from  1787  to  1808,  cost  more  lives  than 
all  our  wars  for  a  hundred  years.  The  wicked  compromise 
made  by  the  Constitution  in  1787  has  more  retarded  the  nation 
than  all  other  causes  put  together.  It  has  cost  more  lives  than 
all  the  wars  of  Napoleon  ;  yet  what  good  did  men  purchase  by 
it  ?  " 

"  Men  wonder  I  am  ill :  I  marvel  not ; 
For  the  sad  sense  of  human  woe  is  deep 
Within  my  heart,  and  deepens  daily  there. 
I  see  the  want,  the  woe,  the  wretchedness, 
Of  smarting  men,  who  wear,  close  pent  in  towns, 
The  galling  load  of  life.     The  rich,  the  poor, 
The  drunkard,  criminal,  and  they  that  make 
Him  so,  and  fatten  on  his  tears  and  blood,  — 
I  bear  their  sorrows,  and  I  weep  their  sins  : 
Would  I  could  end  them  !     No :  I  see  before 
My  race  an  age  or  so  ;  and  I  am  sent 
For  the  stern  work,  to  hew  a  path  among 
The  thorns,  —  I  take  them  in  my  flesh,  —  to  tread 
With  naked  feet  the  road,  and  smooth  it  o'er 
With  blood.     Well,  I  shall  lay  my  bones 
In  some  sharp  crevice  of  the  broken  way. 
Men  shall  in  better  times  stand  where  I  fell, 
And  journey,  singing  on  in  perfect  bands, 
Where  I  have  trod  alone,  no  arm  but  God's, 
No  voice  but  his.    Enough  !  —  his  voice,  his  arm." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FAILING   HEALTH. 

THE  accumulation  of  work  on  Theodore  Parker  had  by 
this  time  become  immense ;  for  the  new  tasks  never  dis 
placed  old  ones.  All  he  had  done  he  continued  doing, 
quickening  his  speed  as  the  road  lengthened,  and  bracing 
his  shoulders  as  the  burden  increased.  The  studies  were 
continued,  and  under  less  merciful  conditions.  The 
books  went  in  a  satchel  with  him  to  the  trains.  All  day 
he  read  in  the  jostling  car,  the  motion  and  noise  whereof 
caused  an  unnatural  irritability  of  brain ;  and  at  night, 
by  the  help  of  a  little  apparatus  he  had,  the  scholar's 
toil  was  continued.  The  sermons  were  written  as  con 
scientiously,  and  under  severer  sense  of  responsibility. 
His  lectures,  which  were  meant  to  edify  and  instruct, 
never  to  amuse,  cost  him  a  world  of  labor  in  preparation, 
and  great  fatigue  in  delivery.  The  parish-work  —  visit 
ing  the  sick,  comforting  the  afflicted,  burying  the  dead  — 
was  done  faithfully,  with  broken  heart  of  spikenard,  very 
precious,  poured  out  on  the  feet  of  the  humblest.  To 
weep  with  the  weeping,  and  rejoice  with  the  rejoicing,  was 
to  him  a  ministerial  privilege  he  never  wished  to  forego, 
or  delegate  to  others ;  and  his  parish  included,  beside 
those  who  regularly  attended  service  at  Music  Hall,  a 
multitude  of  strangers  who  had  no  claim  on  him  but  that 
of  their  need,  and  who  hastened  to  lay  their  loads,  not  at 
his  feet,  but  on  his  shoulders.  He  considered  himself 

477 


478  THEODORE  PARKER. 

appointed  "  minister  at  large  of  all  fugitive  slaves  in  Bos 
ton."  How  he  discharged  that  ministry  we  have  seen. 
In  special  cases  his  attention  was  unremitted.  Hours 
were  set  apart  every  day  for  offices  of  help  and  sympathy. 
He  multiplied  himself  with  multiplying  cares ;  he  spread 
himself  with  the  spreading  field. 

It  is  a  common  opinion  that  Mr.  Parker  sank  exhausted 
from  overwork.  This  is  incidentally,  but  only  inciden 
tally,  true.  But  for  terrible  overwork,  he  might  have  lived 
to  be  an  old  man.  But  for  the  exposure  to  which  a  part  of 
his  work  (lecturing,  for  instance)  subjected  him,  he  probably 
would  have  reached  seventy-five  or  eighty.  Still  his  arch 
enemy  was  not  toil :  he  worked  easily.  Intellectual  labor 
was  a  joy  to  him :  it  cost  him  more  to  suspend  it  than  to 
pursue  it.  Toil  was  a  necessity  of  his  being,  a  law  of  his 
constitution.  To  stop  his  engines  damaged  them.  Then 
—  after  he  reached  mature  life  at  least  —  his  habits  were 
mainly  wholesome.  He  was  temperate,  but  no  ascetic,  in 
eating  or  drinking.  He  did  not  keep  inordinately  late 
hours.  He  was  fond  of  walking ;  and,  in  the  season  for  it, 
took  long  walks,  —  made  journeys  on  foot  into  the  country 
and  to  the  mountains.  His  animal  spirits  were  high : 
he  could  laugh  and  jest  to  the  last.  The  blood  was  swift 
in  his  veins.  In  his  youth  he  had  great  strength :  he  was 
always  powerful  in  his  arms  and  legs.  In  the  postscript 
to  a  note  to  his  friend  T.  W.  Higginson,  dated  March, 
1858,  he  says, — 

"  Let  the  saints  (at  Worcester)  always  keep  good  bodies. 
Do  you  know  I  could  once  carry  a  barrel  of  cider  in  my  hands  ? 
I  don't  mean  a  glass  at  a  time,  —  I  could  do  that  now,  —  but  a 
barrel  at  a  time.  I  have  worked  (not  often,  though)  at  farm- 
work  twenty  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  for  several  days 
together,  when  I  was  eighteen  or  twenty.  I  have  often  worked 
from  twelve  to  seventeen  hours  a  day  in  my  study  for  a  con 
siderable  period ;  and  could  do  that  now :  so  you  were  not 
wholly  wrong  in  putting  me  among  the  -<fo\z-bodied  men." 


FAILING  HEALTH.  479 

Still  there  was  a  radical  source  of  weakness  :  there  was 
inherited  disease.  His  mother  was  consumptive.  The 
climate  of  his  birthplace  was  unhealthy.  He  grew  up  amid 
the  disadvantages  of  poverty,  —  insufficient  and  unsuita 
ble  food  and  clothing,  privation,  and  premature  labor. 
His  boyish  strength  was  frightfully  overtaxed.  He  knew 
and  was  told  nothing  of  the  necessity  of  sleep,  exercise, 
recreation :  so  that  he  grew  up  thoughtless  of  the  simplest 
conditions  of  physical  health ;  so  ignorant  of  them,  that 
he  fancied  he  could  live  at  Cambridge  on  two  crackers  a 
day,  and  actually  tried  to  live  on  something  like  it.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  his  latent  foes  were  re-enforced  :  that  the  cita 
del  held  out  so  long  is  the  marvel.  Confessions  of  ill 
health  appear  early  in  the  journal.  The  trouble  was 
mainly  in  the  head,  though  sometimes  in  the  side.  He 
calls  it  dyspepsia,  "  or  something  else."  He  complains  of 
useless  days  and  weeks  when  he  could  do  nothing. 
Among  the  letters  to  Miss  Stevenson  I  find  this  one, 
dated  Feb.  23,  1846:  — 

"  I  was  sorry  the  moment  that  I  mentioned  my  complaint  to 
you  the  other  day  ;  for  I  saw  that  it  gave  you  more  trouble  than 
me.  I  don't  often  tell  my  friends  that  I  am  ill :  then,  I  know 
not  how,  I  felt  it  would  be  wrong  not  to  tell  you.  I  have  done 
no  work  that  I  could  avoid.  I  have  been  idle  this  winter,  till  my 
conscience  rebuked  me  sternly,  and  does  now.  I  am  passing 
my  best  days,  and  doing  but  very  little.  My  troubles  are  not 
the  result  of  any  immediate  overdoing,  but  of  causes  that  go 
back  to  my  childhood.  I  have  often  done  two  days'  work  in 
one ;  for  I  was  obliged  to  do  it.  It  cost  me  a  struggle,  alone 
and  single-handed,  to  gain  an  education.  The  foundation  of 
my  present  troubles,  I  have  no  doubt,  was  laid  more  than  fifteen 
years  ago,  —  before  I  came  to  Boston  as  a  teacher.  Since  that, 
my  life  has  been  one  of  care  and  anxiety,  not  diminished  since 
my  marriage.  You  know  the  cause.  I  don't  know  what  to 
do.  So  long  as  I  can  stand  upright,  I  do  well :  the  moment  I 
resolve  to  lean  a  little,  I  go  plumb  down  ;  for  there  is  nothing 
for  me  to  lean  upon :  therefore  I  never  fall  till  the  last  minute 


480  THEODORE  PARKER. 

I  will  be  as  careful  as  I  can  be,  considering  the  circumstances 
of  the  case.  I  can't  go  off  a  fortnight,  though  I  gladly  would. 
We  are  just  putting  the  social  meeting  into  action  :  and  I  feel 
that  I  had  better  be  here  ;  though,  perhaps,  I  had  better  not. 
Then,  too,  whom  can  I  get  to  bend  my  own  bow  ?  —  not  a  long 
one,  not  a  tough  one,  perhaps,  but  one  that  others  don't  like  to 
handle.  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  destined  to  a  long  life  or 
not.  Of  my  seven  father  Parkers  this  side  the  ocean,  all  but 
one  have  lived  to  be  nearly  eighty.  My  candle  stands  in  a  cur 
rent  of  air,  and  so,  I  suppose,  will  burn  away  faster  than  if  all 
about  it  was  still.  I  don't  know  that  I  need  rest:  I  think  I 
need  fun,  which  I  can't  easily  get.  I  should  like  to  spend  one 
evening  in  the  week,  for  three  months,  with  'good  fellows,' 
who  sang,  — 

1  We  won't  go  home  till  morning  !  ' 

However,  give  yourself  no  more  concern  about  me  ;  for  this 
week  I  am  a  good  deal  better.  Last  week  I  did  nothing  at  all,  — 
not  even  write  a  sermon;  for  an  old  one  took  its  place  the 
stormy  Sunday:  and  so  the  ill  wind  actually  blew  me  a  ser 
mon.  Ah,  Hannah  !  a  great  many  ill  winds  have  blown  me 
good. 

"  Now,  you  child,  I  might  turn  round  and  caution  you,  who 
need  the  advice  more  than  I  do,  but  won't  follow  it  half  so 
much,  you  good-for-nothing  !  '  Physician,  heal  thyself  ;  '  take 
thine  own  doses.  There  is  no  preaching  like  practice.  Cure  up 
Margaret  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  I'll  take  care  of  my  head  ; 
and  it  will  last  a  good  while  yet,  and  bear  some  hard  knocks. 
The  spring  will  soon  come  ;  and  its  freshness  of  leaves  and 
blossoms  will  do  as  much  good  to  all  of  us  as  to  the  bluebird  and 
thrasher.  Be  a  good  girl,  and  don't  trouble  yourself  about 

"YOUR  GRANDFATHER." 

In  September,  1849,  ^e  constructs  a  health-scale,  thus  :  — 


"  When  able  to  write  the  sermon  Monday  morning,  A. 

«        evening,    £. 


"        "          "         "        « 

"        "          "        "        "       Tuesday  morning,  B. 

"        "          "        "        "  "        evening,    j. 


And  so  on,  —  C,  D,  E,  F.    If  not  at  all, 


FAILING  HEALTH.  481 


Prom  the  Journal. 

Saturday,  Sept.  8.  —  Have  done  little  all  the  week.  Health 
f  :  this  is  too  near  an  approach  to  0  for  this  season  of  the  year. 
I  have  not  begun  this  month  so  ill  for  some  years.  If  I  had 
one  of  the  usual  humdrum  parishes,  I  would  leave  it  for  a  year, 
and  go  off  to  Europe  ;  but  this  is  a  parish  which  I  cannot  leave. 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  squandered  a  fortune  ;  for,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
nine,  I  am  ill,  and  lose  more  than  half  my  time.  For  the  next 
six  months  I  will  take  especial  care  of  my  health,  making  all 
else  bend  to  that,  and  that  to  nothing. 

Saturday,  Sept.  22.  —  Health  about  B. 

The  journal  of  Aug.  24,  1853,  contains  a  birthday  rec 
ord: — 

"  I  am  this  day  forty-three  years  old.  I  used  to  think  I  should 
live  as  long  as  my  fathers  ;  but  certain  admonitions  of  late  warn 
me  that  I  am  not  to  be  an  old  man.  The  last  three  years  have 
made  great  alterations  in  my  health  and  vigor.  I  walk  and  work 
now  with  a  will;  then  by  the  spontaneous  impulse  which  once 
required  the  will  to  check  it.  I  neither  grieve  nor  rejoice  at  the 
thought  of  departure  ;  but  I  will  try  to  set  my  affairs  in  such  a 
condition,  that  I  can  at  any  time  go  over  to  the  other  side  when 
summoned,  and  leave  affairs  in  no  perplexity." 

Already  he  had  begun  to  count  his  chances.  He 
bethought  himself  of  his  ten  brothers  and  sisters,  all  of 
whom,  save  one,  attained  mature  years ;  all  of  whom,  save 
one,  died  from  forty-four  to  forty-seven.  He  kept  his  eye 
on  that  critical  period,  doubting  whether  he  should  pass 
it ;  confident  that,  if  he  did,  he  should  live  to  be  an  old 
man. 

The  journal  of  April,  1856,  has  another  record  :  — 

"  Last  night  I  was  to  lecture  at  New  Bedford,  and  tried  to 

speak ;  but  was  so  ill,  that  I  could  not  hear  or  see  or  speak  well. 

I  left  the  room,  and  went  out  with  Mr.  Robeson,  and  walked  a 

few  minutes.     Went  to  an  apothecary's,  and  drank  about  a 

41 


482  THEODORE  PARKER. 

spoonful  and  a  half  of  sherry  wine,  which  helped  me.  Spoke, 
but  with  great  difficulty.  Am  better  to-day,  but  slenderly  and 
meanly.  /  take  this  as  a  warning,  —  not  the  first." 

To  Miss  Hunt,  on  the  3oth  of  November  of  the  same 
year,  he  writes,  < — 

"  I  hope  that  Sarah  does  not  stay  a  prisoner  in  her  room. 
There  are  two  admirable  doctors  ;  to  wit,  Dr.  SUN  and  Dr. 
A'R.  Both,  I  think,  will  do  that  little  maiden  a  deal  of  good ; 
and  she  need  not  take  their  prescription  homosopathically .  I 
preached  two  Sundays  :  — 

"  i.  On  needless  sickness,  &c. 

"  2.  On  the  progress  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  in  three  hundred 
years  (a  sermon  on  the  three-hundredth  anniversary  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  accession  to  the  British  throne).  It  is  a  great  tri 
umph  we  have  made  since  that  day. 

"  Then  the  Catholics  had  the  hall  for  a  fair ;  and  we  must 
shut  up  on  Thanksgiving  Day  and  last  Sunday.  It  happened 
famously  this  time ;  for  I  was  not  able  to  preach.  I  strained  the 
muscles  of  my  right  thigh  in  getting  into  the  railroad-cars  on 
Wednesday,  the  day  before  Thanksgiving ;  and  came  home  in  a 
bad  condition.  I  have  not  been  down  stairs  since  Thanksgiv 
ing  morning  to  breakfast,  but  stay  here  ;  wear  the  Bear's  petti 
coats,  &c. ;  but  am  mending,  and  shall  preach  next  Sunday  on 
the  progress  which  the  foremost  ideas  of  humanity  will  make 
in  the  next  three  hundred  years.  The  last  sermon  was  one  of 
memory  and  gratitude  :  the  next  will  be  of  duty  and  hope. 

"  Many  thanks  for  all  your  kind  words,  both  of  you,  and  your 
kind  wishes.  I  am  the  most  submissive  of  all  mortals.  I  do 
just  what  the  doctor  (Cabot)  and  Bear  and  Hannah  tell  me.  I 
am  transfigured  into  a  spaniel,  a  turnspit,  a  poodle,  or  some 
other  puppy-dog,  with  no  self-moving  principle  in  him.  So  don't 
advise  Bear  to  consult  RAREY.  She  could  teach  him  many  a 
lesson  in  the  art  of  man-taming.  I  never  expect  to  name  my 
self  again. 

"  My  health  is  good  ;  but  I  can't  walk  much,  and  have  a  cough, 
—  not  pulmonic,  —  which  is  going  off.  I  can  preach  without 
any  difficulty  ;  but  I  don't  go  about  much.  Have  been  in  State 
Street  but  once  for  nine  weeks,  and  made  but  one  parish  visit 


FAILING  HEALTH.  483 

for  nine,  —  then  to  see  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Fisher  :  the  old  lady 
has  moved  up  and  on.  So,  of  course,  I  have  not  seen  Cabot, 
who  has  taken  his  wife  out  to  Brookline ;  nor  Mr.  Waterston. 
Just  now  I  can't  write  much :  so  you  get  little,  and  others 
nought. 

"  Willie  writes  a  nice  German  Wunder-sivry ;  but  I  had  rather 
hear  that  he  had  knocked  down  a  Dutch  boy  of  twelve,  and 
could  throw  any  boy  in  his  class.  The  lad  wants  bowels,  legs, 
arms,  and  chest j  not  a  head.  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  that 
school,  —  thirty-four  boys  in  the  class,  and  he  fourth  or  fifth  ! 
I  wish  he  was  tending  cows  somewhere,  and  not  studying  so 
much.  .  .  . 

"  The  cod-liver  oil  from  the  Laffoden  Isles  is  rancid  before  it 
reaches  us.  The  best  we  get  is  made  at  Provincetown  — which 
lasts  from  March  to  September  —  and  at  Labrador,  which  is 
made  in  October,  and  keeps  through  the  winter.  None  is  good 
more  than  four  or  five  months.  I  am  taking  the  Labrador. 
All  the  house  is  well,  and  we  all  send  love. 

"  God  bless  you  !  "  T." 

This,  then,  is  his  condition  in  the  thick  of  the  Kansas 
strife,  with  all  that  pressure  of  anxiety  on  his  mind.  To 
Miss  Hunt  he  writes  again  on  the  i7th  of  December, — 

"  I  am  as  busy  as  the  apostle  who  had  '  no  leisure  ;  no,  not 
so  much  as  to  eat.'  I  wonder  if  St.  Peter  had  not  some  dear 
little  family  off  in  Siberia  or  Australia,  with  a  hippopotamus  in 
it,  which  he  must  write  to  by  the  next  steamer  from  Joppa,  or 
by  the  Turkish  mail-line,  or  the  Jerusalem  and  Kamtschatka 
express  ? 

"  I  am  lecturing  all  the  time  :  twenty-five  lectures  since  the 
1st  of  November,  and  perhaps  fifty  more  under  contract.  All 
this  keeps  me  up  late,  and  makes  me  work  hard,  which  you  know 
I  dislike.  In  January  and  February  I  shall  go  several  times 
to  New- York  State,  having  some  twenty  or  more  applications. 
So,  perhaps,  I  shall  continue  to  do  till  I  am  fiftyj  and  after 
August,  1860,  I  intend  no  longer  to  live  such  an  apostolical,  no 
madic,  and  unchristian  life,  but  to  sit  down  and  write  my  books, 
which  cry  out  for  me  to  make  them  ready.  But  who  knows  ? 


484  THEODORE  PARKER. 

It  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps.  Some  acci 
dent  may  stop  the  lecturing  to-day,  or  something  else  make  it 
necessary  to  continue  the  toil  till  I  am  a  hundred.  Poverty, 
like  an  armed  man,  may  come  upon  me  in  my  old  age  as  on 
Pierpont,  and  stir  me  up  to  work  when  I  would  rather  lie  down 
and  sleep.  But,  as  the  sky  now  promises  no  such  storm  (I 
should  have  said  threatens},  I  lay  plans  of  a  different  sort. 
'  There's  nothing  sure  but  death  and  rates,'  say  the  Scotch : 
so  who  knows  that  1860  will  bring  the  long-coveted  opportunity 
to  write  my  books  ?  " 

It  would  seem  as  if  he  were  determined  it  should  not  : 
for,  early  in  this  very  year  (1856),  he  undertook  to  preach 
on  Sunday  afternoons  to  an  independent  society  in  Water- 
town  that  had  no  minister ;  and  he  did  it  for  a  year,  with 
no  other  compensation  than  the  thanks  of  the  people  and 
the  amount  of  his  bill  at  the  stable.  The  service  he  en 
joyed,  and  he  wrote  no  new  sermon  ;  but  the  journey  in 
all  weathers  he  had  no  right  to  submit  to,  and  the  duty  was 
a  tax  on  his  conscientiousness.  "  Work  while  it  is  day  " 
was  the  rule  he  went  by,  forgetting  that  too  much  work 
brought  on  the  night  before  its  time.  To  friends  who 
remonstrated  with  him  he  would  reply,  "  Look  at  the  con 
dition  of  the  country  to-day  \  —  tlie  slaveholders  clamor 
ing  for  more  and  more  power ;  the  government  disposed  to 
yield  all  they  ask ;  the  South  united  and  arrogant ;  while 
the  North  is  divided,  and  disposed  to  be  submissive.  I 
CANNOT  stand  idly  by,  a  silent  witness  of  this  deadly 
demoralization.  I  must  exert  every  power  I  possess  to 
avert  the  awful  evils  that  slavery  threatens,  to  the  slaves 
first,  but  also  to  the  whole  people ;  and,  if  my  life  must 
be  sacrificed,  it  cannot  be  sacrificed  in  a  better  cause  than 
that:  of  opposition  to  this  dreadful  sin." 

To  a  faithful  soul  who  came  to  see  him  not  long  before 
he  broke  down  he  said  with  emotion,  — 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  ;  for  I  know  you  won't  scold  at  me. 
People  come  here  and  scold  at  me  for  doing  what  I  can't  help 


FAILING  HEALTH.  485 

doing.  I  feel  that  the  fate  is  upon  me.  God  has  intrusted  me 
with  certain  powers,  and  I  must  use  them  in  the  service  of  my 
fellow-men.  Here  are  four  millions  of  my  brothers  and  sisters 
who  are  literally  dumb.  They  are  not  allowed  to  speak  ;  and 
they  hold  up  their  hands  to  me  in  earnest  entreaty,  saying, 
'  Speak  for  us  ! '  and  I  must  do  for  them  all  I  can.  I  have 
looked  the  matter  carefully  over,  and  think  I  can  go  through  the 
winter  safely,  and  do  my  work.  I  come  of  a  long-lived  stock, 
and  hope  with  care  to  survive  ;  but  it  matters  little  whether  I  go 
through  or  go  under,  if  I  do  my  duty  as  I  ought." 

"  Never,"  said  his  friend,  "  did  I  see  any  one  so  thorough 
ly  aware  of  the  fact  that  he  was  laying  his  life  on  God's 
altar." 

Still  he  did  the  best  he  could,  or  thought  he  could.  The 
summer  of  1856  was  spent  delightfully  in  the  near  neigh 
borhood  of  very  dear  friends  whom  he  was  not  to  see  for 
three  years,  but  whom  he  met  himself  in  Europe  before 
they  had  expired.  Many  an  evening  of  that  summer  he 
passed  on  the  lawn  with  them,  and  was  in  his  happiest 
vein.  Every  star  as  it  came  out  in  the  heavens,  the  stray 
odors  from  the  ground,  the  chirp  of  cricket  and  grasshop 
per,  the  cry  of  the  startled  bird  in  the  chestnut-grove,  all 
sights  and  sounds,  were  noted  by  his  quick  senses,  and 
woven  into  his  wonderful  talk.  On  the  last  evening,  as  he 
said  "  Good-by  !  "  he  begged  for  the  "  Moorish  cushion  " 
he  had  sat  on  these  moonlight  or  starlight  evenings,  and 
took  it  away  as  a  memorial,  and  to  sit  on  "  sacramentally  " 
after  his  friends  had  gone.  A  touch  of  his  heartstrings 
always  revived  him. 

In  the  August  of  this  same  summer  (1856)  he  writes  to 
Miss  Stevenson,  — 

"  For  now  a  week  I  have  had  time  —  the  first  for  a  year  or 
two  —  to  read  for  general  instruction  and  for  immediate  delight. 
Guess  how  I  enjoyed  it !  Kuno  Fischer,  Diotima  (a  '  Treatise 
on  Beauty '),  and  half  a  dozen  volumes  of  Vogt,  with  a  *  Vie  de 
Pierre  Ramus '  by  Waddington,  and  a  (very  stupid  and  hypo- 
41* 


486  THEODORE  PARKER. 

critical)  work  on  i  La  Vie  Future '  by  M.  Martin,  with  divers 
others,  have  been  the  results  thus  far.  Here  is  unbounded 
stillness  and  repose  ;  nothing  to  molest." 

Light  reading  to  rest  the  mind ! 

About  this  time  he  amused  himself  with  making  trans 
lations  from  German  poets ;  his  favorite  being  Heine,  the 
most  difficult  of  all  to  render.  It  was  his  habit,  late  on 
the  Sunday  afternoons  of  a  single  winter  and  spring,  to 
go  to  a  friend's  house  in  Mt.  Vernon  Street  to  hear  and 
read  the  translations.  He  took  great  pains  with  these 
trifles ;  wrote  them  over  and  over  again ;  seemed  never 
tired  of  improving  them ;  prided  himself  more  on  their 
artistic  perfection  than  on  much  better  work ;  desired  that 
the  choicest  of  them  should  be  preserved,  with  his  name 
attached  to  them.  Specimens  of  this  light  work  Mr. 
Weiss  has  printed  in  his  second  volume.  The  very  best 
of  all  I  venture  to  reprint* here  :  — 

Oh  !  knew  but  the  blossoms,  the  wee  things, 

How  deep  I  am  wounded  at  heart, 
They'd  mingle  their  tears  with  my  weeping, 

And  charm  away  my  smart. 

And  did  but  the  nightingales  know  it 

That  I'm  sad  and  sick  so  long, 
They  would  joyfully  come  and  sing  me 

A  life-awakening  song. 

And  if  they  could  know  all  my  sorrows, 

The  dear  gold-starlets  we  see, 
They  would  all  come  away  from  their  glory, 

And  comfort  speak  to  me. 

But  all  of  them  can't  understand  it : 

One  only  she  knows  of  my  smart ; 
For  it  was  she  herself  rent  asunder, 

Asunder  rent,  my  heart. 


FAILING  HEALTH.  487 

This  is  pretty :  — 

i. 

On  the  pinions  of  the  Muses, 

My  dearest,  thee  I  bear 
To  the  banks  of  holy  Ganges, 

Where  I  know  the  spot  most  fair. 

II. 
A  rosy  blooming  garden 

Lies  in  still  moonlight  there  ; 
The  lotus-flowers  are  waiting 

Their  little  sister  dear. 

HI 
The  violets  are  billing  and  cooing, 

And  look  to  the  stars  above  ; 
In  secret  the  roses  whisper 

Their  fragrant  story  of  love. 

IV. 

There  comes  to  leap  and  listen 

The  shy  and  cunning  gazelle ; 
And  far  on  the  holy  river 

The  waters  rush  and  swell. 

v. 
There  'neath  a  palm  we'll  lay  us, 

Beside  the  holy  stream, 
And  drink  of  love  and  quiet, 

And  dream  a  blessed  dream. 

The  following  version  of  "  The  Midnight  Review  "  com 
pares  fairly  with  the  usual  renderings  of  that  famous 
poem,  and  shows  what  he  could  do :  — 

i. 

About  the  hour  of  midnight 

The  drummer  leaves  his  grave  ; 
Makes  with  the  drum  his  circuit ; 

Goes  up  and  down  so  brave  ; 


488  THEODORE  PARKER. 


II. 

And  with  his  arm  all  fleshless 

Goes  drumming  through  and  through 
He  beateth  many  a  roll-call, 

ReveilU,  and  tattoo. 

4 

in. 

The  drum  resoundeth  strangely ; 

It  has  a  heavy  sound : 
The  old  deceased  soldiers 

Waken  thereat  in  the  ground. 

rv. 

They  who  in  high  Northland, 

All  stiff  in  ice  and  snow  ; 
Those  in  Italia  sleeping, 

The  ground  too  rich  below ; 

v. 

They  whom  the  Nile  slime  covers, 

And  the  Arabian  sand,  — 
They  rise  from  out  their  war-graves, 

And  their  weapons  take  in  hand. 

VI. 

About  the  hour  of  midnight 
The  trumpeter  leaves  his  grave, 

And  bloweth  on  his  trumpet, 
And  up  and  down  rides  brave. 

vn. 

Those  serving  on  airy  horses, 

The  riders  dead,  behold  ! 
The  bloody  ancient  squadrons 

With  weapons  manifold. 


FAILING  HEALTH.  489 


vm. 


There  the  white  skulls  all  grinning 
Beneath  the  helms  appear  ; 

And  hands  of  bone  and  sinew 
Long  troopers'  swords  uprear. 


IX. 


About  the  hour  of  midnight 
The  commander  leaves  his  grave ; 

From  far  he  cometh  hither : 
Round  him  his  staff  rides  brave. 


x. 


He  wears  a  little  chapeau; 

A  simple  dress  he  wears  ; 
Also  a  little  straight  sword 

At  his  left  side  he  bears. 


XI. 


The  moon,  her  light,  pale  yellow, 
Shines  on  the  long,  wide  plain : 

The  man  in  the  small  chapeau 
Looks  on  his  troops  again. 


XII. 

The  ranks  present  saluting, 
And  shoulder  then  no  gun : 

With  playful  sound  of  trumpet 
The  whole  host  marches  on. 


XIII. 

The  generals  and  marshals 
Around  him  form  a  ring : 

To  the  nearest  the  commander 
A  word  is  whispering. 


490  THEODORE  PARKER. 


XIV. 


That  word  goes  round  the  circuit, 

Resounding  near  and  far : 
And  "  France  !  "  is  now  the  watchword ; 

The  countersign,  "  St.  Helena !  " 


xv. 


This  is  the  mighty  muster 

In  the  Elysian  Plain, 
Which  at  the  hour  of  midnight 

The  emperor  holds  again. 


To  Miss  Hunt. 

BOSTON,  Sept.  4,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  SARAH, — My  summer  vacation  draws  nigh  its 
end.  I  shall  begin  to  preach  again  Sept.  6. 

I  have  spent  the  last  seven  weeks  in  the  most  strenuous 
attempts  to  be  intellectually  idle.  It  is  true,  I  have  not  all  the 
common  helps  thereto.  I  don't  drink  to  excess,  or  drive  fast 
horses.  More  than  morally,  I  am  materially  opposed  to  smok 
ing,  with  a  constitutional  objection  to  the  laziness-producing 
weed.  I  keep  no  bad  company.  I  don't  sit  in  easy-chairs  or 
rocking-chairs.  What  helps  could  I  have  ?  I  have  industri 
ously  read  the  Boston  newspapers,  —  the  "Courier,"  "Journal," 
"Traveller,"  "Transcript,"  &c. ;  and  three  times  have  attended 
church  on  Sundays.  The  result  is,  I  never  lived  so  many  weeks 
with  so  little  thought.  I  have  done  what  I  could  to  effect  a  cure. 
If  I  fail,  it  must  be  a  vice  of  my  nature,  no  sin  of  my  will.  The 
doctors  (and  doctoresses)  recommended  total  abstinence  from 
thought.  I  have  come  as  near  it  as  the  "  carnal  reason  "  of  my 
"fallen  nature"  will  allow. 

Now  I  shall  begin  to  think  a  little,  and  gradually  come  back 
to  a  little  more,  and  so  on.  I  shall  lecture  but  little  this  winter ; 
never  when  I  am  forced  to  ride  all  night,  or  sleep  in  a  bad  bed. 
There  is  a  deal  of  writing  to  be  done ;  and  this  winter  I  shall 
attend  to  that  partly,  and  partly  to  acquiring  firm  and  robust 
health.  My  nature  never  consented  to  this  nomadic  life  of  a 
lecturer,  running  all  over  the  country,  and  sleeping  in  other 


FAILING  HEALTH.  491 

men's  beds  (or  in  no  beds,  and  often  not  sleeping).  But  it 
gave  me  the  means  of  charity,  and  an  opportunity  to  publish 
certain  thoughts  which  I  think  of  value  to  the  people.  Here 
after  I  shall  be  content  with  the  pulpit  and  the  press,  and  let  the 
lecture  go  ;  at  least,  for  a  time. 

The  visit  to  Central  New  York  was  fatal.  It  was 
made  in  February,  1857.  Thus  he  tells  the  story:  — 

"  Feb.  9th,  I  was  to  lecture  at  Waterford  ;  loth,  at  Syracuse  ; 
nth,  at  Utica  ;  I2th,  at  Rochester  ;  and  then  return,  and  reach 
Boston  at  midnight  of  I4th-I5th.  I  should  pass  every  night  in 
my  bed,  except  that  of  the  I2th.  But,  on  the  contrary,  things 
turned  out  quite  otherwise.  The  railroad-conductor  left  us  in 
the  cars  all  night  at  East  Albany,  in  the  midst  of  the  inundation. 
Common  New-England  prudence  and  energy  would  have  taken 
us  all  over  the  river.  I  had  no  dinner,  no  supper,  except  what 
I  had  in  my  wallet  (dried  fruit  and  biscuit) ;  no  breakfast  the  next 
morning,  save  a  bit  of  tough  beef  in  an  Irish  boarding-house. 
When  I  awoke  on  the  morning  of  the  loth,  I  felt  a  sharp  pain 
in  my  right  side,  not  known  before.  I  got  to  Syracuse  that 
night  (loth)w^  Troy  ;  lectured  at  Utica  the  nth;  and  at  eleven, 
P.M.,  took  the  cars  for  Rochester,  and  rode  all  night  till  five  or 
six  the  next  morning,  when  I  got  into  damp  sheets  at  Rochester, 
and  slept  an  hour.  I  was  ill  all  that  day,  and  at  night  had  all 
the  chills  of  an  incipient  fever.  But  I  lectured ;  took  the  cars 
at  two  or  three,  A.M.,  having  waited  for  them  three  or  four  hours 
in  the  depot ;  and  reached  Albany  in  time  for  the  four,  P.M., 
train,  Friday  ;  and  got  to  Boston  about  two,  A.M.,  on  Saturday ; 
having  had  no  reasonable  meal  since  noon,  Thursday.  Sunday 
I  preached  at  Boston  and  Watertown,  as  my  custom  was. 
The  next  week  I  was  ill,  but  lectured  four  times ;  so  the  next 
and  the  next ;  until,  in  March,  I  broke  down  utterly,  and  could 
do  no  more." 

To  Miss  Hunt. 

BOSTON,  April  7,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  SARAH,  —  I  have  written  but  one  letter  with  my 
own  hand  for  more  than  three  weeks ;  and  now  my  pen  will 
wabble  a  little,  do  the  best  I  can. 

What  a  queer  thing  for  me  to  be  sick  !     I  don't  know  that  I 


492  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ought  to  call  it  sick,  though.  But  I  was  ailing  a  month  before  I 
finally  broke  down.  For  a  while  I  lay  horizontally  twenty-two 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  then  twenty-one,  then  twenty, 
then  nineteen,  eighteen,  seventeen,  sixteen,  fifteen  ;  and  yester 
day  I  was  out  of  the  horizontal  line  eleven  hours.  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  one  of  the  best  medicines  would  be  the  usual 
service  of  Sunday.  The  doctors  all  of  them  said  "  No ! "  all 
the  laical  and  clerical  friends  said  "  No  !  "  and,  with  even  more 
emphasis,  all  the  women. 

But  I  thought,  out  of  ten  chances,  there  are  seven  that  it  will 
do  me  good ;  only  three  for  harm.  So  I  made  ready  an  old 
sermon  of  integrity,  adding  a  deal  of  new  matter  thereto.  A 
coach  took  Bear  and  me  to  the  door  ;  and  with  her  help  and  a 
cane  I  crawled  into  the  house,  and  walked  as  bravely  as  I  could 
to  the  pulpit.  I  felt  a  little  sinking  of  the  heart  as  I  looked  at 
the  congregation,  —  about  two  thousand.  But  all  the  preliminary 
services  went  off  without  difficulty.  I  apologized  for  being 
sick,  and  showed  that  it  was  not  wholly  my  fault ;  but  the  ner 
vous  poison  I  took  in  at  East  Albany  had  done  the  work. 

Then  came  the  sermon.  I  spread  out  my  feet  as  far  apart  as 
I  could  (old  men  and  little  children  always  straddle]  to  make  a 
wide  basis,  and  kept  my  hand  always  on  the  desk,  so  that  I  need 
not  fall  over.  Only  two  or  three  times  did  I  venture  to  lift  both 
hands  at  once.  The  services  over,  Mr.  Manley  and  others  put 
on  my  coat ;  and  Bear  and  Dr.  Geist  helped  me  out  and  into 
the  coach,  and  I  rode  home.  My  pulse  is  commonly  about  six 
ty-four  :  it  stood  at  seventy-six  to  eighty-four  till  about  three 
o'clock  ;  then  went  down.  I  felt  a  little  doubtful  of  the  experi 
ment  for  a  while  :  but  at  five  the  tide  had  begun  to  turn  ;  and  at 
six  I  said  I  would  not  crow  till  I  was  out  of  the  woods  ;  and  at 
nine  it  was  clear  that  the  experiment  had  prospered  ;  and  Mon 
day  morning,  spite  of  the  southerly  rain,  which  held  all  day,  it 
was  plain  to  all  that  I  was  saved  by  the  "  foolishness  of  preach 
ing."  To-day  I  am  a  deal  better,  and  shall  be  as  careful  and 
prudent  as  the  most  cautious  can  desire. 

The  parish-meeting  was  last  Sunday,  at  twelve.  They  raised 
my  salary  from  sixteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars  ;  and  offered  me  six  months'  vacation  to  go  to  Europe, 
they  supplying  the  pulpit.  I  shall  not  take  two  thousand  five 
hundred,  only  two  thousand  dollars  ;  and  shall  decline  the  gener- 


FAILING  HEALTH.  493 

cms  offer  of  a  vacation.  The  kindly  offer  effects  a  cure  ;  and  so 
I  need  not  take  all  the  medicine.  I  make  day-dreams  and  night- 
dreams  of  the  visit,  and  so  get  a  good  deal  of  solid  satisfaction 
out  of  it.  But  I  don't  need  the  relaxation,  and  so  shall  not  take 
it.  This  recent  illness  is  a  warning  which  I  shall  carefully 
heed.  I  never  came  quite  so  near  the  edge  of  the  precipice 
before.  I  might  have  had  either  a  brain-fever  or  a  lung-fever : 
I  am  let  off  with  this  trifle  of  a  slow  typhoidaL  Men  seldom 
have  the  typhoid  twice.  I  had  mine  at  twelve,  and  lay  at  Death's 
door  a  good  while,  but  was  not  taken  in. 

At  this  juncture,  his  strength  failing  him,  he  was  sub 
jected  to  a  fresh  assault  on  his  theological  position. 
Hitherto  his  ecclesiastical  foes  had  mainly  been  members 
of  the  Unitarian  sect.  His  theological  war  had  been  waged 
within  the  limits  of  a  small  denomination,  which  the  great 
religious  world  of  New  England  had  come  to  overlook  as 
a  Boston  clique,  a  local  peculiarity  too  insignificant  to  be 
regarded  with  alarm.  Beyond  an  occasional  twitting  of 
the  Unitarians  with  their  responsibility  for  Mr.  Parker, 
there  was  little  serious  concern  taken  in  the  family  quar 
rel.  But  now  the  case  was  altered.  Parker  had  a  na 
tional  reputation.  He  lectured  and  preached  throughout 
the  Northern  States.  His  printed  sermons  were  sold  by 
the  thousand,  and  read  by  the  ten  thousand.  Strangers 
from  afar  came  to  hear  him,  and  carried  his  thoughts  all 
over  the  land.  His  name  was  spoken  in  the  places  of 
power  by  men  who  had  the  political  and  social  destinies  of 
the  country  in  their  charge,  —  by  statesmen,  senators,  gov 
ernors  of  States.  Reformers  confessed  him  their  leader ; 
philanthropists  acknowledged  him  their  fellow  in  good 
works.  He  was  a  formidable  person  in  the  community,  an 
invidious  influence  on  the  globe,  quite  worthy  the  attention 
of  those  who  had  in  their  keeping  the  souls  of  men.  Had 
not  such  been  faithless  to  their  duty  in  allowing  him  to  run 
wild  so  long  ?  Was  it  not  time  that  his  course  should  be 
checked  ?  Had  he  not  lived  long  enough,  yea,  too  long, 


494  THEODORE  PARKER. 

for  the  welfare  of  the  elect  ?  To  assassinate  him  was,  of 
course,  out  of  the  question.  But  if  the  Lord  might  only 
be  moved  to  take  him  to  himself,  sanctified  or  not !  Might 
He  not  be  moved  by  entreaty  ?  A  "  providential  interven 
tion  "  would  be  as  effectual  as  "  carnal "  methods  used  to 
be,  and  would  be  edifying  beside.  Why  should  such  inter 
ventions  be  discontinued  ? 

The  great  "revival  "of  1858,  resulting  from  the  com 
mercial  ruin  of  1857,  gave  the  desired  opportunity  for  an 
experiment.  New  England  was  in  a  convulsion  of  reli 
gious  emotion,  torn  between  ecstasies  of  devotion  and  ago 
nies  of  penitence.  Pious  whippers-in  plied  all  their  arts 
on  the  weak,  the  nervous,  the  superstitious.  Praying 
bands  went  from  town  to  town,  galvanizing  the  moribund 
into  spasms  of  supplication.  Churches  were  open  all 
day,  and  relays  of  ministers  kept  the  evangelical  car  in 
swift  motion  towards  the  kingdom.  Posters  in  the  streets 
announced  the  time  and  place  of  special  meetings  for  in 
tercession.  The  drama  of  redemption  was  exhibited  with 
new  scenery,  and  more  imposing  stage-effects.  The  good 
people  who  had  persuaded  themselves  that  the  reign  of 
vulgar  superstition  was  at  an  end,  at  all  events  in  Boston, 
were  confounded  when  they  saw  the  well-worn  imagery 
of  the  Apocalypse  start  into  life,  and  the  faded  pictures 
of  damnation  glow  once  more  on  the  walls  of  modern 
meeting-houses.  The  fetishism  they  thought  obsolete  was 
rampant  still  in  high  places.  Men  in  black  coats  and 
white  neck-ties  beat  the  tomtom  as  vigorously  as  New- 
Zealanders,  and  called  on  their  idol  as  lustily  as  the 
priests  of  Baal. 

Now,  then,  was  the  time  to  get  rid  of  Parker.  He  was 
weak,  ailing,  prostrate.  A  combined  assault  at  this  junc 
ture,  by  the  combined  spirits  of  earth  and  heaven,  might, 
perchance,  overthrow  him.  The  word  was  given ;  the 
faithful  were  ready ;  a  simultaneous  movement  upon  the 
Holy  Seat  was  made.  That  all  the  forces  might  be  used, 


FAILING  HEALTH.  495 

and  no  atom  of  momentum  lost,  it  was  recommended  that 
men  and  women,  wherever  they  might  be,  —  in  the  shop 
or  on  the  street,  —  should  pray  for  Mr.  Parker  daily  when 
the  clock  struck  one.  A  few  samples  of  these  "  addresses 
to  the  throne  of  grace  "  will  tell  better  than  any  description 
the  method  and  spirit  of  the  evangelical  tacticians.  They 
are  taken  from  the  journal,  where  Mr.  Parker  had  pre 
served  them  in  connection  with  one  or  two  other  speci 
mens  of  the  superstition  of  ..the  nineteenth  century. 

"  O  Lord !  send  confusion  and  distraction  into  his  study  this 
afternoon,  and  prevent  his  finishing  his  labors  for  to-morrow  ; 
or,  if  he  shall  attempt  to  desecrate  thy  holy  day  by  attempting 
to  speak  to  the  people,  meet  him  there,  Lord,  and  confound 
him,  so  that  he  shall  not  be  able  to  speak." 

"  O  Lord  !  put  a  hook  in  this  man's  jaws,  so  that  he  may  not 
be  able  to  speak." 

"  O  Lord !  meet  this  infidel  on  his  way,  who,  like  another 
Saul  of  Tarsus,  is  persecuting  the  Church  of  God  ;  and  cause  a 
light  to  shine  around  him,  which  shall  bring  him  trembling  to 
the  earth,  and  make  him  an  able  defender  of  the  faith  which  he 
has  so  long  labored  to  destroy." 

"  O  Lord  !  if  this  man  will  still  persist  in  speaking  in  public, 
induce  the  people  to  leave  him,  and  to  come  up  and  fill  this 
house  instead  of  that." 

"  Lord,  we  know  that  we  cannot  argue  him  down ;  and,  the 
more  we  say  against  him,  the  more  will  the  people  flock  after 
him,  and  the  more  will  they  love  and  revere  him.  O  Lord  ! 
what  shall  be  done  for  Boston  if  thou  dost  not  take  this  and 
some  other  matters  in  hand  ?  " 

The  following  prayer  was  offered  by  Elder  Burnham, 
who,  in  an  afternoon  sermon,  said,  — 

"  Hell  never  vomited  forth  a  more  wicked  and  blasphemous 
monster  than  Theodore  Parker ;  and  it  is  only  the  mercies  of 
Jesus  Christ  which  have  kept  him  from  eternal  damnation  al 
ready." 


496  THEODORE  PARKER. 

After  such  an  outburst,  the  petition  that  follows  has  a 
savor  of  tenderness :  — 

"  O  Lord !  if  this  man  is  a  subject  of  grace,  convert  him, 
and  bring  him  into  the  kingdom  of  thy  dear  Son ;  but,  if  he  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  saving  influence  of  the  gospel,  remove 
him  out  of  the  way,  and  let  his  influence  die  with  him." 

There  were  some  who  looked  on  the  strong  man's  sick 
ness  as  a  judgment  on  him  for  his  impiety ;  and  some,  it 
is  rumored,  regarded  it  as  an  anticipative  answer  to  the 
prayers. 

Mr.  Parker  took  the  nonsense  pleasantly,  so  far  as  it 
concerned  himself.  In  a  letter,  after  speaking  of  it,  he 
lets  his  thoughts  run  in  other  channels :  — 

"  The  robins  have  come  ;  the  blue-birds  long  ago.  Give  my 
love  to  the  pope.  Don't  tell  the  pope  this  (about  the  prayers) ; 
for  I  fear  I  shall  miss  the  cardinalship,  and  my  black  hat  is 
almost  worn  out.  I  think  the  robes  will  come  over  in  *  The 
Leviathan.' " 

But,  as  a  sign  of  the  times,  the  "  revival "  made  him  sad, 
and  stirred  up  within  him  the  theological  zeal,  which 
never  had  wholly  slept,  but  which  had  temporarily  yielded 
to  a  more  practical  "enthusiasm  of  humanity."  The  two 
sermons,  "  A  False  and  True  Revival  of  Religion,"  and 
"  The  Revival  of  Religion  which  we  Need,"  showed  the 
old  fires  still  burning,  their  heat  as  fierce,  their  splendor 
as  awful,  their  beauty  as  fascinating,  as  ever,  —  fires  of 
wrath,  and  flames  of  prophecy,  at  once  angering  some,  and 
kindling  others  with  hope. 

The  same  spirit  animated  the  four  remarkable  dis 
courses  which  he  delivered  before  the  Progressive  Friends, 
in  Chester  County,  Pennsylvania,  in  June,  1858.  They 
are  among  his  most  characteristic  efforts  :  — 

i.  Of  the  Progressive  Development  of  the  Conception 
of  God  in  the  Bible. 


FAILING  HEALTH.  497 

2.  Of  the  Ecclesiastical  Conception  of  God,  and  its  In 
adequacy  to  meet  the  Wants  of  Science  and  Religion. 

3.  Of  the  Philosophical  or  Natural  Idea  of  God,  and 
its  Fitness  for  all  the  Wants  of  Science  and  Religion. 

4.  Of  the  Soul's  Normal  Delight  in  the  Infinite  God. 
By  this  time  it  had  become  plain,  that,  if  Mr.  Parker 

would  not  take  care  of  himself,  his  friends  must  take  care 
of  him.  In  August,  a  new  but  already  intimate  friend, 
alarmed  by  the  danger,  invited  him  to  take  a  wagon  jour 
ney  of  two  or  three  weeks.  It  is  thus  described  in  a  letter 
to  his  friends,  Mrs.  Apthorp  and  Miss  Hunt,  in  Europe  :  — 

PALAZZO  BABY  SQUEAL,  PIAZZA  PADDY  SMELL, 

NEWTON  CORNER,  MASS.,  Last  Sunday  in 

Dog  Days,  1858. 

DEAREST  SALLIE  AND  LIZZIE,  —  I  shall  put  the  two  sisters 
in  one  letter  this  day,  the  last  of  my  vacation. 

You  think  "  fleas  the  only  troubles,"  do  you  ?  What  if  you 
had  flies  biting,  baby  squealing,  mother  yelling,  and  doors  slam 
ming,  all  at  the  same  time  ?  "  But  there  is  no  life  without  its 
inconveniences,"  as  the  toad  said  while  under  the  harrow,  or 
might  have  said  if  his  tongue  had  been  loosed. 

Don't  think  you  are  the  only  voyagers  on  earth,  or  that 
Europe  is  the  only  country  fit  to  travel  in.  Have  not  I,  also, 
had  my  journey  ?  I  returned  on  Thursday  afternoon  from  a 
little  ride  of  seven  hundred  miles  with  Joseph  Lyman.  You 
know  Joseph  Lyman,  Judge  Lyman's  son,  of  your  own  town,  — 
a  fine  fellow,  one  of  the  most  gentlemanly  of  men,  "  the  best 
traveller  in  the  world,"  thoroughly  eupeptic,  and  of  course 
good-natured  (the  stomach  is  the  organ  of  good  temper), 
conversable,  and  highly  intelligent.  Hannah  calls  him  "  the 
lover,"  —  not  hers,  not  Bear's,  but  mine.  (He  does  come  over, 
sometimes,  Sunday  night ;  and  takes  me  to  ride,  &c.)  Didn't 
we  have  a  good  time  ?  His  "  wagon  "  is  a  wonderful  "  one-hpss 
shay  "  on  four  wheels,  which  cost  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
Thomas  Goddard  made  it ;  but  for  modesty  it  is  called  tke 
"  wagon."  We  rode  about  thirty  miles  a  day,  at  the  rate  of 
from  three  to  five  miles  an  hour :  so  we  were  always  ten  or 
twelve  hours  a  day  in  the  open  air.  Beautiful  weather  all  the 
42* 


498  THEODORE  PARKER. 

time.  We  never  staid  in  a  great  town  —  save  one  night  in 
Albany,  which  we  could  not  avoid.  Here  is  our  route  :  To 
Concord  (Mass.) ;  through  Lancaster,  Princeton,  Fitzwilliam,  to 
Keene  (N.H.)  ;  to  Charleston,  Windsor  (Vt.),  Comstock,  Sher- 
burne,  Montpelier,  and  Burlington,  to  Lake  Saranac  in  the 
Adirondack  Mountains  (New  York) ;  down  Lake  Champlain, 
and  by  Fort  Ticonderoga  and  Fort  Edward  to  Saratoga,  Troy, 
Albany ;  down  the  Hudson  to  Newburg  ;  thence  through  the 
whole  length  of  Connecticut  to  Dudley  in  Massachusetts ; 
thence,  via  Hopkinton  Springs,  home  again,  —  seven  hundred 
miles  in  twenty-one  days,  with  no  accident,  no  delay.  Now,  we 
saw  no  kings,  only  ivould-bes;  and  no  queens,  only  supposed-to- 
bes;  and  no  pope,  not  even  a  cardinal.  Oh  !  where  is  my  car 
dinal's  hat  ?  What  faithless  friends  you  are,  not  to  have  ex 
torted  from  the  pope  this  dream  of  my  life,  and  consummation 
of  all  my  hopes,  —  the  cardinal's  hat !  Only  think  how  I  should 
sit  on  the  platform  of  the  Music  Hall,  with  my  red  hat  and  my 
robes  !  How  I  should  sit  in  my  brass  coach  with  my  Bruscht 
horses,  and  be  called  Eminence,  and  high  and  mighty  Prince  ! 
I  don't  quite  forgive  you.  Surely  a  woman  could  get  round  the 
pope,  if  she  would.  But  you  don't  care  any  thing  about  me  ; 
that  is  clear.  If  I  should  die  suddenly,  be  sure  the  "  crowner's 
verdict  "  would  be,  "  Lack  of  a  cardinal's  hat." 

But  we  did  see  such  neatness,  thrift,  comfort,  and  well-dif 
fused  wealth,  as  no  other  land  in  all  the  world  can  offer.  If  a 
Southern  slaveholder  could  ride  where  we  went,  and  see  what 
he  must,  he  would  at  once  be  convinced  that  his  miserable  sys 
tem  was  a  wretched  failure.  We  went  in  by-roads,  lived  all  the 
time  in  small  towns,  rested  at  the  little  country  taverns,  and  not 
once  saw  a  ragged  American,  and  but  one  American  at  all 
affected  by  drink.  Yet  there  is  a  great  difference  in  the  various 
places.  The  superiority  of  New-England  civilization  over  all 
the  rest  of  America  is  quite  clear.  In  the  north  and  west  of 
Vermont  this  is  damaged  by  the  Canadian  French,  who  take 
down  the  tone  of  the  Yankees.  In  Western  Massachusetts  and 
Connecticut,  the  Dutch  element  of  New  York  shows  itself  in 
the  greater  slovenliness  of  all  things.  New-Englanders  marry 
Dutch  girls  ;  and  the  housekeeping  shows  the  degeneracy  of 
the  breed.  Dear  old  Massachusetts  !  I  never  loved  her  so  well. 
Puritanic  New  England  !  it  is  she  that  has  shaped  America,  and 


FAILING  HEALTH.  499 

will  one  day  give  her  a  grander  destiny  than  she  dreams  of 
yet.  In  Italy,  France,  and  Germany  you  see  the  power  of  the 
few,  to  whom  all  else  is  sacrificed  or  has  been.  Much  beauty 
came  from  that  arrangement,  —  grand  palaces,  magnificent 
churches,  statues,  pictures,  and  things  fair  to  look  on.  How  they 
haunt  one's  dreams  years  after  they  have  faded  from  the  sight! 
But  in  democratic  America  it  is  all  different :  all  is  for  the  peo 
ple,  of  the  people,  by  the  people.  The  plough  is  in  the  hands 
of  its  owner.  Shoemaker  Wilson  is  one  of  the  ablest  men  in 
the  American  Senate.  Blacksmith  Banks  is  the  best  governor 
Massachusetts  has  had  since  I  was  born.  How  we  have  altered 
style  in  America !  The  last  Sunday  that  I  preached,  Mr. 
Chase,  governor  of  Ohio,  with  its  three  million  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  people,  sat  there  with  all  the  rest.  I  tried  to 
reach  him  and  speak  to  him  after  meeting  ;  but  so  many  men  and 
women  came  to  bid  me  good-by,  that  I  could  not  accomplish  it. 
Riding  home,  I  met  Banks,  governor  of  a  million  two  hundred 
thousand  of  Massachusetts,  in  a  common  country  one-horse 
wagon,  which  cost  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  dollars,  going 
to  dine  with  his  brother-governor  at  a  tavern,  and  talk  over 
the  affairs  of  five  millions  of  people.  What  if  the  Durchlaucht 
of  Hesse-Homburg,  ruler  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  and 

the of ,  with  five  hundred  thousand,  were  to  meet  and 

dine !  How  many  faults  New  England  has  !  but,  God  be 
thanked,  how  many  blessings  !  What  a  present  for  the  peo 
ple  !  What  a  future  for  all ! 

One  thing  struck  me  with  astonishment  in  the  woods  of 
New  York  ;  for  you  must  know  we  went  fifty  miles  bodily 
into  the  "  forest  primeval,"  "  the  murmuring  pines  and  the 
hemlocks  :  "  it  was  the  uncommon  fertility  of  the  human  race 
in  the  log-cabins.  They  are  all  crowded  with  babies.  Often 
the  mother,  a  woman  of  twenty-eight,  perhaps,  stood  at  the 
door  (with  a  hoop  on),  a  baby  of  six  weeks  in  her  arms  ;  another 
of  a  year  old  stood  at  her  side  ;  then  one  of  two,  one  of  three, 
four,  five,  six,  and  more.  Really  it  seemed  as  if  the  wood  was 
alive  with  babies,  and  the  trees  spawned  as  the  waters  do. 

Then  the  letter  runs  on  with  charming  personalities, 
which  lack  of  space  alone  forbids  quoting. 


500  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Parker  was  the  most  jocund  of  travellers.  He  had  the 
merry  exuberance  of  a  boy  when  out  of  doors  in  pleasant 
weather.  He  greeted  the  trees  by  name,  and  welcomed 
the  familiar  flowers,  introducing  them  to  his  companions, 
with  their  family  connections,  and  an  account  of  their 
pedigree.  The  landscape  was  on  familiar  terms  with  him. 
The  shape  of  the  country  told  him  the  secrets  of  its  flora : 
he  knew  what  wild  flower  must  be  hiding  behind  the  rock, 
in  the  meadow,  in  the  intricacies  of  the  "  stump  fence," 
in  the  shade  of  the  grove,  beside  the  brook ;  and  in  a 
moment  he  was  out  of  the  wagon  in  quest  of  his  prize, 
pausing  to  pick  the  berries  on  the  stalk,  —  "a  feast  for  the 
gods."  If  he  passed  a  stone-quarry,  he  must  needs  stop, 
watch  the  work,  and  talk  with  the  men,  pointing  out  to 
them  peculiarities  in  the  formation,  which  might  be  availed 
of  to  assist  their  labor  and  secure  the  full  value  of  its 
results.  The  mower  attracts  his  attention :  he  examines 
the  scythe,  —  the  handling  of  which  he  had  not  forgotten, 
—  explains  the  make,  and  probably  drops  a  piece  of  in 
formation  that  will  be  of  use  to  the  farmer  the  next  time 
he  has  occasion  to  buy.  "What  is  that  man  doing? 
Cradling  wheat.  I  must  take  a  turn  at  that."  So  out  he 
jumps,  springs  over  the  bars,  and  invites  the  man  to  take 
a  rest  while  he  performs  the  task.  The  gentleman  in  the 
city  coat  and  hat  proves  equal  to  the  occasion  :  the  smile 
of  incredulity  disappears  from  the  farmer's  face  in  a  few 
minutes ;  and  in  half  an  hour  he  is  convinced  that  his 
coadjutor  must  have  been  a  farmer  once.  He  mingles  in 
the  discussions  at  the  country  inn ;  listens  to  the  village 
oracle,  confronts  him,  puts  questions  to  him  he  cannot 
answer,  brings  forward  facts  he  cannot  dispute,  and  ends 
by  instructing  the  crowd  that  had  gathered  on  the  true 
state  of  the  country  and  the  real  nature  of  the  issues  then 
pending.  The  forlorn  bear  tethered  to  a  tree,  or  con 
fined  within  a  small  enclosure  in  the  tavern-yard,  always 
had  his  sympathy.  He  could  not  pass  Bruin  by,  but 


FAILING  HEALTH.  501 

watched  his  motions,  fed  him,  called  him  by  pet  names 
till  the  last  moment.  In  travelling,  the  peculiar  grotesque- 
ness  of  the  man  came  out.  A  friend  tells  me,  that  jour 
neying  one  winter's  day  from  Boston  to  New  York  where 
he  was  engaged  to  lecture,  and  being  detained  at  New 
Haven,  he  kept  himself  warm  by  jumping  Jim  Crow  on 
the  bridge  that  spans  the  gloomy  station.  The  exube 
rance  of  life  was  irrepressible.  It  made  him  a  great 
recipient  of  the  exuberant  vitality  of  Nature,  which  flowed 
in  at  all  the  pores  of  his  being,  and  quickened  to  the  very 
last  moment  the  latent  vigor  of  his  frame.  Contact  with 
Nature  always  revived  him.  On  a  sultry  summer's  day 
by  the  seaside  he  was  seen  with  a  scythe,  mowing  down 
the  Canada  thistle  that  was  threatening  to  overspread  the 
fields.  They  should  get  no  farther  than  the  roadside  if 
he  could  prevent.  The  idlers  at  the  hotel  thought  he 
must  be  in  great  want  of  occupation ;  but  he  came  from 
his  task  more  refreshed  than  fatigued. 

But  no  excursions  by  water,  or  expeditions  on  land  in 
open  wagons,  are  a  match  for  hereditary  disease  and  exces 
sive  toil.  He  could  not  be  idle.  On  his  return  from  this 
little  trip,  forty  letters  were  waiting  for  him  :  ten  more 
came  in  straightway.  Work  of  other  kinds  had  accumu 
lated  ;  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  shirk  any  portion  of  it. 
In  the  autumn,  preaching  began  again,  and  lecturing,  and 
parish  work,  and  fugitive-slave-  work,  and  Kansas  work, 
and  work  of  various  unexpected  kinds. 

From  the  Journal. 

OCT.  5,  1858. 

The  Music  Hall  opened  three  weeks  ago,  and  has  been 
filled  with  quite  large  congregations.  Our  course  of  lectures 
begins  to-morrow.  Mr.  Sanborn  gives  the  introductory  poem. 

This  course  of  lectures,  the  "  Fraternity  "  course,  estab 
lished  by  his  own  friends,  gave  Mr.  Parker  his  first  chance 
to  be  heard  in  Boston  as  a  lecturer.  He  was  not  back- 


502  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ward  to  use  it.  The  lectures  on  historic  Americans  — 
Franklin,  Adams,  Jefferson,  Washington  —  were  intend 
ed  and  partially  prepared  for  this  season.  The  Franklin 
was  carefully  written  out  and  delivered.  The  Adams  was 
given,  though  not  fully  written  out.  The  others  were 
completed  from  copious  notes  by  the  hand  of  his  devoted 
friend  Mr.  Lyman,  who  cherished  his  memory  as  tenderly 
as  he  cherished  his  failing  life,  and  hastened  his  own 
decline  by  his  unwearied  toil  over  the  literary  remains 
of  the  man  he  loved  as  a  brother,  and  revered  as  a  bene 
factor.  Like  all  Mr.  Parker's  work,  the  lectures  were 
designed  to  instruct  and  fortify  the  American  people  in 
the  essential  ideas  of  their  institutions. 

Heroic  remedies  are  not  always  best  even  for  heroes. 
The  effusion  of  water  on  the  chest  which  followed  the 
earlier  sickness  it  took  nearly  eight  months  to  subdue. 
In  the  mean  time,  during  the  summer,  a  fistula  developed 
itself,  producing  painful  and  alarming  consequences.  He 
lost  twenty  pounds  of  flesh ;  had  cough,  night-sweats,  and 
other  dangerous  symptoms.  It  seemed  as  if  the  end  was 
nigh.  A  surgical  operation  in  October  gave  relief,  and 
the  sick  man  fancied  himself  delivered  from  his  tormentors ; 
but,  on  getting  into  a  railroad-car  to  attend  the  funeral  of 
a  little  boy  drowned  by  accident,  —  a  service  rendered 
from  pure  humanity,  —  he  strained  and  wrenched  himself 
in  delicate  parts  of  the  body.  The  brave  man  was  not 
daunted;  still  professed  to  think  he  should  live  to  be 
seventy  or  eighty ;  promised  to  be  more  moderate  in  future  ; 
staid  in  his  library ;  had  his  meals  brought  up  to  him  ; 
drove  out  every  day ;  and  had  the  best  medical  and  sur 
gical  advice,  which  he  had  too  much  faith  not  to  take. 
The  anxiety  of  his  friends  deepened.  Already,  in  August, 
many  members  of  his  society  joined  in  beseeching  him  to 
extend  the  term  of  his  vacation  to  the  utmost  limit  that 
prudence  required,  and  by  no  means  to  allow  his  strong 
desire  to  be  at  his  post  to  override  their  united  wishes  and 


FAILING  HEALTH.  503 

settled  convictions.  Weakness  enforced  what  considera 
tion  would  scarcely  have  granted.  As  the  year  drew  to  a 
close,  work  had  to  be  dropped,  —  all  but  the  preaching, 
which  continued  with  but  few  interruptions,  and  those  only 
when  it  was  physically  impossible  for  him  to  stand  even 
by  grasping  the  desk. 

The  journal  terminates  abruptly  now,  save  for  a  few  jot 
tings  in  small  books  which  can  be  carried  in  his  pocket. 
On  Jan.  i,  1859,  this  entry  is  made  :  — 

"  It  is  Saturday  night,  —  eve  of  the  first  day  of  the  new  year.  I 
have  finished  my  sermon  for  to-morrow  ;  and  I  have  nothing  to 
do  but  indulge  my  feelings  for  a  minute,  and  gather  up  my 
soul. 

"  This  is  the  first  New-Year's  day  that  I  was  ever  sick.  Now 
I  have  been  a  prisoner  almost  three  months,  living  in  my  cham 
ber  or  my  study.  I  have  been  out  of  doors  but  thrice  since 
Sunday  last.  The  doctor  says  I  mend,  and  I  quote  him  to  my 
friends  ;  but  I  have  great  doubts  as  to  the  result.  It  looks  as  if 
this  were  the  last  of  my  New- Year's  days  on  earth.  I  felt  so 
when  I  gave  each  gift  to-day ;  yet  few  men  have  more  to  live 
for  than  I.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  just  begun  a  great  work  ;  yet, 
if  I  must  abandon  it,  I  will  not  complain.  Some  abler  and  bet 
ter  man  will  take  my  place,  and  do  more  successfully  what  I 
have  entered  on.  The  Twenty-eighth  will  soon  forget  me :  a 
few  Sundays  will  satisfy  their  tears.  Some  friends  may  linger 
long  about  my  grave,  and  be  inly  sad  for  many  a  day." 

Three  pages  later,  the  last  word  in  the  bulky  quarto,  is 
a  direction  for  a 

MONUMENT. 

"  When  I  die,  I  wish  to  be  buried  in  the  old  burying-place  in 
Lexington,  where  my  fathers  since  1709 — four  generations  of 
them — have  laid  their  venerable  bones.  I  wish  to  be  put  near 
them.  At  my  head  let  there  be  a  plain  blue  or  green  slate-stone, 
thus  I  A  |B.  I ,  with  no  ornament,  no  black  paint.  I  mark  the 
stone  1— - — '  as  double,  in  case  my  wife  may  also  subsequently 


504  THEODORE  PARKER. 

wish  to  be  laid  beside  me,  as  she  often  says  :  if  not,  let  it  be 
single.     A.  may  contain  this  inscription  :  — 

THEODORE    PARKER, 

(SON    OF    JOHN    AND    HANNAH.) 
Born  Aug.  24,  1810  ;  died  — 

The  sermon,  "  What  Religion  may  do  for  a  Man,"  was 
preached  with  great  difficulty  on  Jan.  2.  He  felt  that  it 
was  the  last  time  ;  and  it  was.  The  next  Sunday,  this  little 
note,  in  pencil,  was  read  to  the  congregation  met  in  Music 
Hall :  — 

SUNDAY  MORNING,  Jan.  9,  1859. 

WELL-BELOVED  AND  LONG-TRIED  FRIENDS,  —  I  shall  not 
speak  to  you  to-day  ;  for  this  morning,  a  little  after  four  o'clock, 
I  had  a  slight  attack  of  bleeding  in  the  lungs  or  throat.  I 
intended  to  preach  on  "  The  Religion  of  Jesus,  and  the  Christi 
anity  of  the  Church  ;  or,  The  Superiority  of  Good- Will  to  Man 
over  Theological  Fancies." 

I  hope  you  will  not  forget  the  contribution  for  the  poor,  whom 
we  have  with  us  always.  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  again  look 
upon  your  welcome  faces,  which  have  so  often  cheered  my 
spirit  when  my  flesh  was  weak. 

May  we  do  justly,  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  with  our 
God,  and  his  blessing  will  be  upon  us  here  and  hereafter  ;  for 
his  infinite  love  is  with  us  for  ever  and  ever. 
Faithfully  your  friend, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  "  slight  attack  of  bleeding  "  was  a  serious  hemor 
rhage  of  the  lungs.  There  was  now  no  time  to  lose.  A 
meeting  of  the  parish,  called  on  the  spot,  voted  a  year's 
salary  to  the  pastor,  more  if  necessary,  to  enable  him  to 
seek  complete  repose  from  every  kind  of  care.  Experi 
enced  physicians  pronounced  the  case  grave.  Tubercles 
had  formed,  and  were  increasing.  The  disease  he  had 
inherited  had  already  progressed  far.  The  chances  of 
recovery  were  declared  to  be  as  one  in  ten.  The  stout 
soldier  laughs  at  the  odds.  "  If  that  is  all,  I'll  conquer. 


FAILING  HEALTH.  505 

I  have  fought  ninety-nine  against  one,  —  yes,  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  against  one,  —  and  conquered.  Please 
God,  I  will  again ;  sursum  corda"  It  is  decided  that  he 
must  go  to  the  West  Indies  at  once ;  thence  to  Europe ; 
thence  wherever  the  chances  should  look  brightest. 

I  shall  leave  the  reader  to  imagine  the  grief  of  Mr. 
Parker's  friends  and  parishioners  when  the  truth  they  had 
feared  broke  upon  them.  Any  who  will  may  read  the 
letters  that  passed  between  pastor  and  people.  They  are 
printed  at  length  in  Mr.  Weiss's  book.  Tender  and  touch 
ing  they  are,  but  no  .more  so  than  was  sincerely  felt  on 
both  sides.  Private  .letters  of  sympathy  and  manly  or 
womanly  love  came  in  such  numbers,  that  the  sufferer 
printed  a  card  in  "The  New- York  Tribune,"  excusing  him 
self  from  replying  to  them  all ;  a  notice  that  only  brought 
fresh  tributes  from  people  who  had  refrained  from  writing 
because  unwilling  to  burden  him  with  the  care  of  answer 
ing.  Now  that  they  were  sure  he  would  not  answer,  they 
would  speak.  These  heart-roses  covered  his  sick-bed,  and 
filled  him  with  their  fragrance.  So  much  of  the  odor  as 
he  could  he  wafted  back.  As  he  lay  in  his  pain,  tender 
thoughts  came  to  him  of  all  he  loved,  of  many  who  had 
not  loved  him  ;  and  in  all  directions  the  white  doves  flew 
from  his  window  with  messages  of  good  will,  thanks  for 
old  kindnesses,  gratitude  for  confidence  and  sympathy, 
generous  acknowledgment  of  smallest  services  rendered 
and  long  forgotten  by  the  doer,  sweet  reminiscences  of 
past  joy,  praise  for  good  deeds  done  and  good  words 
spoken  for  freedom,  apologies  for  imaginary  troubles  or 
offences,  —  all  in  manly,  simple  language,  without  a  weak 
expression  of  complaint,  with  the  natural  submission  that 
belonged  to  his  faith.  "  If  I  recover,"  he  says  in  a  part 
ing  note  to  Salmon  P.  Chase  (and  it  is  in  the  spirit  of  them 
ajl),  —  "  if  I  recover,  —  and  the  doctors  tell  me  I  have  one 
chance  in  ten,  —  only  nine  chances  against  me  to  one  in 
my  favor,  —  I  shall  be  thankful  for  the  experience  of  aif ec- 
43 


506  THEODORE  PARKER. 

tion  and  friendship  which  my  illness  has  brought  from  all 
parts  of  the  land :  if  I  do  not  recover,  I  shall  pass  off  joy 
fully,  with  an  entire  trust  in  that  Infinite  Love  which  cares 
more  for  me  than  I  care  for  myself." 

To  S.  P.  Andrews. 

BOSTON,  Jan.  27,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  SAM,  —  I  am  not  well  enough  to  see  you  :  it  will 
make  my  heart  beat  too  fast.  I  sail  —  Bear,  and  Miss  S.,  and 
Dr.  Howe  also  —  in  about  ten  days  for  the  West  Indies; 
thence  to  Europe,  perhaps,  in  May.  Who  knows  what  the 
result  will  be  ?  For  complete  recovery,  the  chances  in  my  favor 
are  one  out  of  ten.  So  the  doctors  say;  I  don't  rate  it  higher. 
I  am  ready  for  either  alternative,  but  am  still  full  of  hope  that 
the  human  mortal  life  will  hold  out  long  enough  for  me  to  ham 
mer  over  again  some  of  the  many  irons  I  have  laid  in  the  fire 
and  got  ready  for  the  anvil.  It  does  seem  to  me  I  shall  have 
time  left  to  finish  certain  pieces  of  work.  But  I  will  not  com 
plain  of  the  dear  Mother  (who  long  ago  admonished  me  that 
I  must  not  cherish  long  hopes  in  a  short  world)  if  the  kind 
Hand  that  brought  me  here  shall  also  soon  take  me  away  to  that 
world  "  which  eye  hath  not  seen,"  &c.  You  and  I  have  had 
many  a  good  time  together ;  and  I  hoped  we  should  enjoy  many 
more.  Indeed,  I  laid  out  my  life  to  work  publicly  and  hard  till 
sixty,  and  then  have  a  quiet  afternoon  till  eighty  for  getting 
in  my  hay ;  but,  if  my  hour  strikes  at  forty-eight,  let  not  you 
nor  me  complain. 

My  wife  sends  love  to  your  wife  ;  whereto  add  mine,  and 
believe  me 

Faithfully,  affectionately,  and  yours, 

THEODORE. 

To  Rev.  William  R.  Alger. 

BOSTON,  Jan.  28,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  ALGER,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  flowers  and  the  yet 
sweeter  fragrance  of  the  note  which  came  with  them.  They 
bloom  on  my  table,  while  it  sheds  its  unseen  influence  else 
where.  I  don't  know  whether  I  sail  to  life  or  death ;  but  heaven 
is  never  a  distant  port,  and  one  need  not  complain  if  he  gets 
there  sooner  than  he  laid  out  for.  But  I  leave  a  deal  of  work 


FAILING  HEALTH.  507 

half  done,  and  more  only  begun,  which  I  meant  to  finish,  and 
gladly  would.  I  have  rejoiced  in  your  noble  words,  and  make 
no  doubt  they  will  grow  nobler  yet  as  you  change  time  into  life, 
and  natural  talents  into  lofty  character.  God  bless  your  brave 
spirit,  and  keep  you  faithful !  What  could  I  wish  more  or  bet 
ter? 

Give  my  regards  to  your  wife,  and  believe  me 
Yours  faithfully, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

To  Mrs.  Lydia  M.  Child. 

BOSTON,  Jan.  20,  1859. 

MY  DEAR,  KIND  FRIEND,  —  Many  thanks  for  your  welcome 
letter,  which  I  have  strength  only  thus  poorly  to  reply  to.  I 
knew  you  when  you  did  not  know  mej  and  I  have  much  to 
thank  you  for  in  early  as  well  as  in  later  days.  I  met  you  at 
your  brother's  in  Watertown  in  1833 ;  and  you  then  spoke  some 
cheering  words  to  a  young  fellow  fighting  his  way  to  education. 
God  bless  you  for  that,  and  for  much  more !  Remember  me 
kindly  to  your  brave  husband. 

Yours  faithfully, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

He  has  not  forgotten  the  sonnet  he  wrote  long  be 
fore  :  — 

"  Through  crooked  paths  Thou  hast  conducted  me, 

And  thorns  oft  forced  my  timid  flesh  to  bleed  : 

Still  I  rejoiced  my  Leader's  hand  to  see, 

Trusting  my  Father  in  my  hour  of  need. 

When  in  the  darkness  of  my  early  youth, 

Stumbling  and  groping  for  a  better  way, 

Through  riven  clouds  streamed  down  the  light  of  Truth, 

And  made  it  morning  with  refulgent  ray, 

Along  the  steep  and  weary  path  I  trod, 

With  none  to  guide,  and  few  to  comfort  me. 

I  felt  the  presence  of  the  eternal  God, 

That  in  his  hand  'twas  blessedness  to  be, 
Finding  relief  from  woes  in  consciousness  of  thee." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   DEPARTURE. — THE   SEARCH. 

THEODORE  PARKER,  with  his  wife,  Miss  Stevenson,  and 
Mr.  George  Cabot,  left  the  house  in  Exeter  Place,  on  the 
3d  of  February,  with  a  resolute  determination  to  use  his 
one  chance  in  ten  for  health,  —  too  resolute,  in  fact.  He 
who  too  fiercely  fights  his  own  disease  may  become  its  ally. 
He  sat  in  his  room  at  the  Astor  House,  gaunt  and  gray, 
but  firm,  as  if  he  were  the  carer,  and  not  the  cared-for.  He 
knew  the  contents  of  each  box  and  bag,  where  each  pack 
age  and  flask  was  put.  When  the  little  procession  moved 
from  the  hotel,  he  staid  till  the  last  to  see  that  nothing 
had  been  dropped ;  then  walked  sturdily  to  Jersey  City, 
where  "  The  Karnac "  lay.  All  was  ready  for  him  on 
board.  A  dear  friend  from  afar  put  flowers  —  violets  and 
carnations  —  in  his  state-room.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe  were 
there  to  greet  him  with  manly  sympathy  and  feminine 
grace.  They  were  to  be  his  companions  on  the  voyage. 
To  the  few  friends  who  came  to  say  farewell  he  said  little  ; 
responded  gratefully  to  their  expressions  of  affection, 
but  faintly  to  their  words  of  hope  ;  was  silent  and  thought 
ful,  though  not  dejected.  The  steamer  sailed  on  the 
8th.  On  the  3d  of  March  it  reached  its  destination, — 
Fredericksted,  West  End,  Santa  Cruz ;  having  touched 
at  Nassau,  St.  Thomas,  Nuevitas,  Puerto  Plata,  and  St. 
John,  and  tarried  four  or  five  days  at  Havana.  The 
voyage,  which  rough  weather  made  uncomfortable  at  start- 
508 


THE  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  SEARCH.  509 

ing,  was  afterwards  pleasant.  The  sea  became  smooth, 
the  air  soft,  the  sky  beautifully  tender.  Nature  did  her 
best  for  the  weary  man.  He  lay  on  the  deck  for  hours, 
or  sat  in  cool  and  shady  spots.  But  the  restless  mind 
would  not  be  still.  "All  my  life-schemes  lie  prostrate." 
"  I  stand  up  to  the  chin  in  my  grave."  "  Fourteen  years  to 
day  since  I  rode  into  Boston  to  preach  at  the  Melodeon. 
I  enlisted  for  a  thirty-years'  war;  but  am  wounded,  and 
driven  off  the  field,  before  half  that  time  is  over."  "  R. 
W.  Emerson  is  preaching  at  the  Music  Hall  to-day."  "  I 
wonder  if  they  remembered  the  anniversary."  "  Those 
precious  guns  in  my  study  —  what  will  become  of  them  ? 
They  must  be  kept  in  a  safe  place.  They  will  belong  to 
the  Commonwealth  when  I  die."  "  Mr.  Shackford  would 
be  a  good  man  to  preach."  Then  came  plans  of  Work 
yet  to  be  done.  "  I  must  write  out  and  finish  my  last  ser 
mon.  I  must  write  my  autobiography."  He  felt  and 
thought  out  a  letter  to  the  Twenty-eighth  Congregational 
Society,  and  began  to  compose  it.  At  every  stopping- 
place  he  went  ashore  with  his  note-book,  and  made  the 
most  of  his  opportunity  to  pick  up  bits  of  knowledge. 
Night  and  day,  on  shipboard,  he  walked  the  rounds  of  his 
parish  in  a  visionary  way,  asking  himself,  "  Who  is  sick  ? 
Who  is  sick  no  more  ?  How  is  poor  old  Mr.  Cass,  the 
grape-pruner  in  Chambers-street  Court  ?  I  must  send 
him  some  strawberries  in  their  season." 

Arriving  at  Santa  Cruz,  hardly  able  to  crawl  out  of  the 
vessel,  he  begins  to  labor  like  a  savan  on  a  hurried 
voyage  of  exploration,  —  noting  every  tree,  shrub,  plant, 
flower ;  classifying  the  products  and  minerals ;  studying  the 
natives  and  the  strangers,  the  increase  of  population,  pur 
suits,  value  of  properties  ;  in  a  word,  exhausting  the  island 
and  everybody  in  it,  and  putting  all  he  sees  and  thinks 
into  most  instructive  and  delightful  letters  to  his  friends 
in  America  and  Europe,  —  letters  betraying  no  sign  of 
ill  health  in  their  texture,  though,  in  an  occasional  sen- 
43* 


510  THEODORE  PARKER. 

tence,  dropping  hints  thereof.  The  hilarious  nature  rol 
licks  in  breezy  fun  about  the  boys  and  girls,  the  ducks 
and  cockadoodles,  negroes,  pigs,  "  long-nosed  and  grave- 
looking  animals,  most  of  them  coal-black,  and,  like  Zac- 
cheus  small  of  stature,  looking  as  if  they  had  been 
through  a  revival,  and  were  preparing  for  the  ministry." 

His  first  visit,  made  the  day  after  his  arrival,  was  to  the 
Protestant  burial-ground,  —  "  the  terminus  ad  quern  I  am 
travelling,  it  may  be.  It  is  not  an  attractive-looking  place  : 
none  in  New  England  that  I  know  is  less  so.  There  the 
grass  comes  '  creeping,  creeping,  creeping,  everywhere  : ' 
here  only  a  rugged,  coarse,  rank  sedge  comes  in  tufts  to 
supply  its  place.  The  trees  look  ungenial.  The  Bombax 
ceiba  is  the  biggest,  but  not  inviting,  eaten  up  with  its 
parasites." 

Front  the  Journal. 

MARCH  13. 

Found  the  monument  of  Rev.  Henry  Walker  of  Charles- 
town,  Mass. ;  died  1838.  I  knew  him.  He  studied  in  Germany, 
and  brought  thence  the  first  copy  of  Strauss,  I  think,  that  came 
to  America.  I  met  him  at  Ripley's,  and  borrowed  his  book  in 
1836  or  1837.  He  left  his  library  to  Rev.  James  Walker.  Here 
lie  his  remains,  with  many  more  of  such  as  came  here  after 
health,  and  found  only  a  grave.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  place  to  lie 
in,  with  the  sedgy  grass  growing  in  bunches  as  high  as  my 
head. 

There  are  three  other  cemeteries,  —  one  Danish,  one 
American,  one  Catholic :  — 

"  The  Danish  looks  most  inviting.  I  change  my  mind,  and 
think  I  shall  prefer  the  Danish  to  the  dark  spot  under  the 
Bombax  ceiba  in  the  English." 

But  there  are  more  cheerful  objects  than  these :  — 

"  The  weather  is  magnificent.  Such  clear  skies  !  On  the 
wharf  at  St.  Thomas  I  could  clearly  see  Santa  Cruz,  forty  miles 
off.  The  nights  are  as  splendid  almost  as  the  days  :  the  stars 


THE  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  SEARCH.  511 

are  so  large  !  The  scintillation  is  peculiar.  Those  near  the 
zenith  twinkle  but  little.  Oh,  if  Desor  were  here,  or  John  L. 
Russell,  or  Dr.  Cabot !  " 


Nor  is  the  humanity  of  the  island  utterly  discouraging. 
He  finds  a  Rev.  Mr.  Dubois,  "  an  excellent  man,  full  of 
kindness  and  industry.  He  takes  great  pains  in  the  noble 
work  of  elevating  the  colored  people ;  but  the  whites  do 
not  help  the  movement,  or  much  favor  it.  Mr.  Dubois  has 
a  friendly  society  of  about  three  hundred  colored  people, 
who  pay  a  little  sum  each  week  to  aid  their  needy  breth= 
ren.  The  most  interesting  sight  on  the  island  is  the  street 
full  of  colored  people  on  Sunday,  going  to  meeting.  Soon 
as  possible,  they  get  shoes  and  other  clothing,  and  help  up 
their  self-respect." 

The  letters  to  his  male  friends  are  crammed  with  infor 
mation  in  regard  to  the  material  and  political  condition 
of  the  island,  the  imports  and  exports,  productive  powers 
and  agencies,  classes  of  the  population,  number  of  work 
men,  soldiers,  slaves,  the  state  of  personal  and  social 
morality,  amount  of  rainfall,  interspersed  with  various 
comment  and  speculation  on  the  future  prospects  of 
the  people.  The  letters  to  his  physician,  Dr.  Cabot  in 
Boston,  give  a  painfully-detailed  account  of  the  progress 
of  his  malady  as  judged  by  symptoms,  the  state  of  the 
abductor  muscles,  the  respiratory  organs,  the  precise  char 
acter  of  his  cough,  the  appearances  of  his  eyes,  his  sen 
sations  in  different  temperatures,  with  the  exact  locality 
of  each. 

The  letters  to  his  female  friends  bloom  with  color,  and 
sparkle  with  wit.  The  bright  birds  flit  through  them  ;  the 
gorgeous  flowers  spread  their  glowing  leaves.  The  Eng 
lish  Episcopal  service  is  waggishly  taken  off ;  the  West-In 
dian  aristocracy  is  deliciously  caricatured,  with  a  fine  sense 
of  humor  solid  with  truth.  The  letters  are  "works,"  or 
would  have  been  to  a  less  irrepressible  man.  By  the 


512  THEODORE  PARKER. 

of  April  he  has  finished  the  "  Letter  to  the  Twenty-eighth 
Congregational  Society,"  —  a  volume  detailing  his  experi 
ence  as  a  minister.  "  A  sick  man's  work,"  he  calls  it,  "  writ 
ten  under  many  difficulties,  amid  continual  interruption 
besides  what  weakness  occasioned,  —  written  in  tears  of 
blood.  No  work  of  mine,  perhaps,  cost  me  such  birth- 
pangs  ;  for  I  was  too  sick  to  write,  and  yet  must  be 
delivered  of  my  book,  and  that,  too,  in  such  a  place !  " 

How  could  such  a  man  get  well  ?  Nature  had  no  chance 
with  him.  His  fires  were  always  burning.  Thought  and 
feeling  perpetually  consumed  him.  He  could  not  be 
quiet.  The  incessant  nervous  irritation  wasted  his 
strength  away.  Between  ecstasy  and  despondency  he 
was  always  torn.  If  he  could  have  forgotten  himself, 
stretched  himself  out  on  the  piazza,  or  beneath  the  trees 
without  caring  what  their  botanical  name  might  be,  and 
let  the  natural  influences  stream  into  his  frame,  he  might 
have  lived ;  but  he  spent  more  than  he  gained. 

Then,  again,  he  knew  too  much  about  his  own  condition 
for  a  sick  man's  good.  His  finger  was  never  off  his  own 
pulse  ;  he  weighed  and  counted  his  breaths  ;  was  more 
intimately  acquainted  with  himself  than  nurse  or  doctor  ; 
and  could  not  desist  from  acting  as  his  own  medical  ad 
viser.  This  is  enough  to  create  the  atmosphere  of  a  sick 
room  anywhere.  It  is  like  a  doomed  man's  listening  to 
the  erecting  of  his  scaffold. 

While  at  the  island,  he  felt  comparatively  strong;  could 
walk  with  tolerable  ease ;  had  a  good  appetite,  an  excel 
lent  digestion  ;  slept,  on  the  whole,  well ;  gained  in  color, 
weight,  and  vigor ;  rode  three  or  four  times  a  week  on  a 
pony ;  his  face  was  brown  and  ruddy,  his  eye  clear  ;  but 
the  cough  continued.  The  two  months  at  Santa  Cruz 
wrought  on  him  no  essential  benefit :  the  critical  symp 
toms  were  worse.  On  the  nth  of  May  he  left  the  island, 
and  returned  to  St.  Thomas  to  take  the  steamer  of  the 
1 6th  for  Southampton.  On  the  voyage  to  the  latter  place 


THE  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  SEARCH.  513 

he  lost  seven  pounds  of  flesh.  The  cough  and  the  ex 
pectoration  increased.  He  began  to  lose  faith  in  his 
powers  of  recuperation.  Some  confidence  he  had  in  the 
reviving  influences  of  civilization,  but  not  much.  Even 
the  misery  of  sea-sickness  was  subdued  by  the  more  terri 
ble  malady  which  kept  him  prostrate.  He  was  in  a  poor 
plight  on  reaching  Southampton,  the  ist  of  June;  but,  the 
same  evening,  he  went  on  to  London. 

Here  less  than  anywhere  could  he  rest.  It  was  the 
charmed  season  in  London ;  crowds  of  people  to  visit, 
crowds  of  things  to  see.  The  eleven  days  there  did  duty 
for  thirty.  There  were  letters  to  be  read  and  written, 
neither  without  emotion  and  pain.  He  had  not  been  at 
Radley's  Hotel,  Blackfriars,  forty-eight  hours,  when  an  old 
gentleman  was  announced,  —  Mr.  Brabant,  seventy-nine 
years  old,  father-in-law  of  Mr.  Hennell.  Miss  Wink- 
worth  and  her  sister  came,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Marti- 
neau,  Prof.  H.  D.  Rogers  and  his  wife.  Mr.  William  H. 
Seward,  then  in  London,  showed  him  politeness.  John 
Bright  got  him  a  place  in  the  House  of  Commons  to  hear 
the  great  debate  which  led  to  the  expulsion  of  the  Derby 
ministry. 

A  visit  that  touched  Mr.  Parker  deeply  was  from  a  com 
parative  stranger,  —  Mr.  Thomas  Cholmondeley,  a  nephew 
of  Bishop  Heber,  of  Oriel  College,  Oxford,  once  a  pupil 
of  Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  afterwards  a  student  in  Germany. 
He  had  been  in  America  five  years  before ;  had  heard  Mr. 
Parker  preach ;  had  called  on  him  at  his  house  ;  was  im 
pressed  by  his  power,  and  interested  in  his  character :  for 
Cholmondeley  himself  was  a  man  of  high  aspirations  and 
intellectual  aims,  though  in  religion,  albeit  of  broad  views, 
not  a  pronounced  rationalist ;  indeed,  at  the  time  of  his 
visit  to  America,  he  was  inclined  to  Puseyism.  His  inter 
est,  however,  was  in  ideas  rather  than  doctrines.  He 
brought  letters  to  Emerson  ;  was  eager  to  know  our  fore 
most  men;  a  man  of  progress,  as  was  evident  from  his 


514  THEODORE  PARKER. 

response  to  a  toast  given  by  a  Plymouth  man  on  Fore 
fathers'  Day  :  "  May  the  spirit  which  brought  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  here  return  again  to  England  !  and  may  we  have 
a  commonwealth  there,  if  not  as  great  as  yours,  at  least  as 
happy  and  as  well  ordered  !  "  This  Mr.  Cholmondeley, 
hearing  that  Mr.  Parker  was  in  London,  and  apprehend 
ing  that  he  might  be  inadequately  supplied  with  funds  for 
travel  and  sojourn  and  medical  service,  delicately  put  his 
purse  at  the  invalid's  disposal.  The  kindness  fell  on  a 
tender  heart,  and  made  a  deep  impression.  It  was  de 
clined,  but  with  gratitude.  Mr.  Cholmondeley  inherited 
property  later,  but  soon  surrendered  it  all ;  for  he  died  in 
1864  in  the  same  city  where  Parker  breathed  his  last, 
and  perhaps  mingled  his  dust  with  the  same  soil. 

But,  of  all  the  visits  the  pilgrim  received,  none  gave  him 
more  delight  than  that  of  Ellen  Craft,  his  colored  pa 
rishioner,  whom,  nearly  ten  years  before,  he  had  helped 
away  to  England  for  safety  from  the  slave-hunters.  It  all 
came  back  to  him,  —  the  danger,  the  fear,  the  flight ;  the 
journey  to  Brookline,  accompanied  by  John  Parkman  and 
Miss  Stevenson,  in  a  close  carriage,  he  himself  armed 
with  a  hatchet  in  case  of  necessity ;  the  bringing  the  fugi 
tive  into  the  refuge  of  his  own  house ;  the  subsequent 
marriage  in  the  boarding-house  on  "  Nigger  Hill "  with 
Bible  and  sword.  For  all  these  years  she  had  been  safe, 
and  came  now  to  greet  her  friend  and  savior.  Such 
remembrance  touched  him  more  than  any  attention  from 
people  of  station;  strengthened  him,  but  weakened  him 
too. 

There  were  visits  to  be  made  as  well  as  received.  He 
was  desirous  of  seeing  Henry  Thomas  Buckle ;  but  the 
author  of  "  The  History  of  Civilization  in  England  "  was 
not  at  home.  His  heart  had  been  set,  too,  on  seeing 
Frances  Power  Cobbe,  with  whom  he  had  corresponded, 
and  whose  books  he  ranked  among  the  greatest  written  by 
a  woman's  pen  ;  but  neither  was  she  in  London.  Invita- 


THE  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  SEARCH.  515 

tions  to  breakfasts,  dinners,  lunches,  were  incessant,  but 
had  to  be  declined.  Once  only  he  lunched  at  Rev.  James 
Martineau's,  where  he  met,  for  the  first  time,  Francis  Wil 
liam  Newman,  John  James  Taylor,  Mr.  Ireson,  and  a  few 
others.  Eminent  men  of  the  Liberal  party,  coadjutors  of 
Mr.  Bright,  he  saw  under  pleasant  circumstances,  but  not 
as  closely  as  he  could  have  wished. 

He  was  always  going  about  to  interesting  places,  — 
Westminster  Hall,  Guildhall,  the  Tower,  Billingsgate,  St. 
George's  Yard,  the  British  Museum,  the  College  of  Sur 
geons,  the  Reform  Club.  He  heard  Huxley  lecture,  and 
Martineau  preach  •  and  listened  to  a  charity-sermon  at 
St.  Paul's,  where  "  eight  thousand  children  sat  alone,  and 
fainted  with  hunger  while  they  listened  to  a  wretched  ser 
mon  on  human  depravity,  or  sang  the  litanies  they  had 
been  made  to  commit  to  memory."  He  called  himself 
very  prudent ;  went  into  no  damp  buildings ;  was  home 
early  in  the  evening ;  avoided  festive  excitement  of  all 
kinds.  But  the  cloudy,  heavy  air  of  the  city,  thick  with 
coal-smoke,  irritated  the  cough,  and  increased  the  expec 
torations.  On  the  1 2th  of  June,  London  was  left  for 
Paris ;  the  journey  via  Folkestone  and  Boulogne  being 
made  by  day  in  twelve  hours. 

Scarcely  was  he  settled  in  his  lodgings,  Hotel  de  Lon- 
dres,  8  Rue  St.  Hyacinthe,  when  Charles  Sumner  called, — 
"  the  same  dear  old  Sumner  as  he  used  to  be  before  that 
scoundrel  laid  him  low."  The  next  day,  the  two  friends 
drove  about  the  city  six  hours  ;  and,  the  drive  over,  Parker 
went  about  on  foot  for  more  exercise,  while  Mr.  Sumner 
went  home  to  rest.  Paris  was,  if  possible,  a  more  exhaust 
ing  field  of  recovery  than  London.  It  were  idle  to  attempt 
to  tell  what  was  seen  and  done  during  the  short  week 
spent  there.  Yet  he  writes  to  Dr.  Cabot  in  Boston,  "  I 
became  a  riollusk,  an  oyster,  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
exercised  a  most  exclusively  those  nerves  of  vegetation 
which  you  discovered.  After  writing  my  'Letter,'  I 


516  THEODORE  PARKER. 

dropped  down  into  my  molluscous  condition ;  and,  when 
I  saw  one  of  the  actual  tenants  of  the  mud  at  London,  I 
said,  '  Am  I  not  a  clam  and  a  brother  ? '  I  never  opened 
my  mouth  upon  oyster,  or  even  shrimp,  except  to  speak 
to  them  respectfully,  lest  I  should  commit  the  crime 
against  nature,  and  devour  my  own  kind.  In  Switzerland 
I  will  be  as  gentle  'as  a  child  that  is  weaned  of  its 
mother,'  and  behave  myself  'like  a  sucking  child.' " 

In  Paris  he  consulted  the  doctors  with  the  usual  satis 
faction. 

"  What  different  counsel  in  doctors  ! "  he  wrote  in  1859. 
"  Last  October,  Bowditch  wanted  me  to  go  to  the  West  Indies  ; 
Dr.  J.  Jackson  not.  For  hypophosphates,  Dr.  Flint  of  Boston, 
Dr.  Bigelow  of  Paris ;  against  hypophosphates,  Dr.  Louis  of 
Paris  ;  indifferent,  or  doubtful,  Drs.  Bowditch,  Cabot,  Moles- 
chott.  For  cod-liver  oil,  Cabot  (moderate) ;  against  cod-liver  oil, 
Drs.  Louis  and  Bigelow.  Some  think  Jongh's  is  the  best  prepa 
ration  of  the  cod-liver  oil:  Dr.  Moleschott  thinks  him  a  humbug 
and  a  liar;  his  oil  good  for  nothing.  Bigelow  recommends  Bor 
deaux  wine  ;  Moleschott,  Malaga  before  Bordeaux  ;  Bigelow 
and  Cabot,  Jackson  and  Bowditch,  whiskey,  brandy,  &c. ;  Moles 
chott,  pilled  barley." 

Dr.  Samuel  Bigelow  took  him  to  Louis,  who  thought 
little  of  the  cough  or  the  expectoration ;  thought  the 
greenish-yellowish  matter  came  from  the  bronchia,  not 
from  the  decomposition  of  the  tubercles ;  had  no  faith  in 
Dr.  Winchester's  hypophosphates,  no  more  in  the  dis 
gusting  cod-liver  oil ;  recommended  pillules  de  Blancard 
(iodide  of  iron),  —  one  at  breakfast,  and  one  at  supper. 
Both  physicians  advised,  i.  Abstinence  from  all  exertion; 
2.  As  much  living  in  the  open  air  as  possible ;  3.  Abun 
dance  of  nutritious  food,  especially  ripe  vegetables ;  4. 
Bordeaux  or  Neufchatel  wines.  Dr.  Louis  recommended 
Ems ;  but  Dr.  Bigelow  was  indifferent.  As  regarded  a 
winter-residence,  Louis  thought  well  of  Egypt ;  but  the 
discomforts  there,  the  chill  of  the  Nile,  and  want  of 


THE  DEPARTURE.  — THE  SEARCH.  517 

society,  made  that  look  unattractive.  His  thoughts  turned 
toward  Montreux  for  the  autumn,  and  Rome  for  the  win 
ter.  The  doctors  took  a  more  cheerful  view  of  his  case 
than  he  did  himself.  He  had  thought  of  Scandinavia, 
Holland,  the  Rhine,  Germany,  plans  of  travel  with  Desor ; 
but  these  fine  schemes  were  abandoned.  On  the  iQth 
of  June  he  is  on  the  way  to  Dijon,  looking  toward  the 
Lake  of  Geneva  and  Montreux.  There  he  met  his  dear 
friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Apthorp  and  Miss  Hunt  on  the 
22d.  His  lodgings  were  ready  for  him,  —  fine  rooms, 
commanding  a  glorious  outlook  ;  the  Dent  du  Midi,  ten 
thousand  feet  high,  snow-covered,  towering  up  before 
him,  twenty  miles  off.  The  weather  had  been  wet,  but 
was  now  delicious.  Climate,  scenery,  accommodations, 
and,  above  all,  the  friendliest  of  friends,  all  conspired  to 
aid  the  sick  man's  recovery.  The  apricots  hung  ripe  on 
the  garden-wall ;  the  figs  were  almost  grown  ;  strawberries 
and  cherries  were  plenty ;  and  the  sweetest  care  bright 
ened  every  day.  The  letters  from  Montreux  —  printed  in 
Weiss,  too  many  and  too  long  to  print  here  —  are  full  of 
interest.  Mr.  Apthorp  planned  delightful  excursions  to 
Vevay,  Chillon,  Lausanne,  Ferney,  and  the  other  charming 
spots  in  the  neighborhood.  He  could  walk  five  miles 
without  fatigue. 

The  Italian  war  was  raging :  of  course  he  must  know 
all  about  that ;  and  nothing  comes  amiss,  —  newspapers, 
cheap  prints,  maps,  bulletins,  pasquinades.  The  neigh 
borhood  is  full  of  associations  historical  and  romantic : 
he  had  them  all  by  heart.  The  local  histories,  guide 
books,  descriptions,  are  all  on  his  table,  —  out-of-the-way 
things  he  had  picked  up  in  obscure  shops  and  stalls  by 
the  way  as  he  came  along. 

Late  in  July  he  varies  the  sweet  monotony  of  his  life 

at  Montreux  by  a  visit  of  a  few  weeks  to  his  friend  Prof. 

Desor  at  his  mountain  ch&let.     It  was  but  a  day's  journey, 

on  a  good  road,  through  pleasant  villages  and  rich  vine- 

44 


518  .        THEODORE  PARKER. 

yards ;  over  passes  that  commanded  glorious  views  of  the 
high  Alps,  from  the  peaks  of  the  Bernese  Oberland  to 
Mont  Blanc.  The  chalet  itself  had  been  a  hunting-lodge  ; 
but  the  good,  hospitable  Desor,  to  accommodate  the  sci 
entific  men  who  sought  the  mountains  and  each  other  in 
the  summer,  had  built  another  house  close  by  for  his 
guests.  A  background  of  fir-trees  furnished  shelter  and 
balmy  fragrance.  Little  clearings  in  the  wood  gave  the 
sunlight  room  to  sport  with  the  green  grass  and  the  red 
berries.  The  owner  had  extensive  vineyards,  which  he 
cultivated,  storing  the  rich  juice  in  his  cellar. 

Here  Parker  felt  at  home.  He  had  his  sheltered  seat 
on  the  edge  of  the  wood,  his  favorite  fir-tree,  double- 
headed,  like  the  pine  at  Lexington.  Here  were  refreshing 
excursions  to  spots  famous  or  beautiful ;  and  trees  enough, 
small  and  large,  for  the  invalid  to  try  his  perilous  wood- 
chopping  propensities  on,  as  he  did,  against  the  advice  of 
all  his  friends ;  savans  they  were  too.  The  summer  was 
an  intensely  hot  one ;  and  there,  three  thousand  feet  above 
the  valley,  it  was  warm  enough  to  be  out  of  doors  many 
hours  of  the  day.  The  invalid  made  the  most  of  it ; 
soaked  in  the  sunshine  ;  inhaled  the  balsam  of  the  pines, 
and  the  aroma  from  the  meadows  ;  drank  the  professor's 
good  red  wine,  and  felt  his  heart  revive.  His  vigor 
increased ;  his  spirits  rose ;  he  gained  in  weight.  It 
seemed  as  if  an  arrest  of  his  disease,  at  least,  was 
probable. 

Not  the  least  invigorating  influence  was  the  companion 
ship  of  intelligent  men ;  some  of  them  distinguished  in 
their  specialty  ;  all  of  them  interested  in  living  questions : 
some  of  them  cordially  sympathetic  with  his  views  ;  all  of 
them  respecting  his  character,  and  appreciative  of  his 
mind.  There  was  the  noble  Lorenz  Kiichler,  whom 
Theodore  learned  to  love  as  a  brother.  The  meals  were 
enlivened  by  discussions  on  all  subjects,  scientific,  politi 
cal,  philosophical,  religious,  —  discussions  that  sometimes 


THE  DEPARTURE.  —  THE  SEARCH.  519 

grew  into  warm  debates,  but  ended  in  brotherly  good 
will. 

The  visitors  at  Desor's  this  summer  made  an  album  as 
a  memorial  of  Parker  and  Kiichler,  each  savan  contribut 
ing  a  paper.  Parker's  piece  was  a  satire  on  the  scientific 
method  of  the  Bridgewater  Treatises,  very  clever,  —  "A 
Bumblebee's  View  of  the  Universe."  Of  course  he  found 
time  to  write  letters,  and  long  ones.  The  best  of  them  — 
and  very  good  they  are  —  may  be  read  in  Weiss.  They 
show  how  affectionately  he  bore  his  friends  in  mind ;  how 
closely  he  kept  the  run  of  home-affairs,  public  and  pri 
vate  ;  and  how  much  deeper  was  his  concern  for  great 
principles  in  America  than  for  his  own  health  in  Europe. 
"I  am  only  one  little  spurt  of  water  running  into  the 
great  ocean  of  humanity ;  and,  if  I  stop  here,  I  shall  not 
be  at  all  missed  there." 

Six  weeks  were  passed  in  this  mountain-retreat,  —  six 
weeks  which  Mr.  Parker  spoke  of  as  among  the  most 
delightful  of  his  sojourn  in  Europe.  On  the  afternoon 
of  Aug.  22  he  left  the  chtilet,  descended  the  mountains, 
and  kept  his  birthday  (the  24th)  at  Montreux.  He 
has  now  an  excellent  appetite  ;  his  spirits  never  fail ;  he 
coughs  less,  and  feels  stronger.  He  carried  more  than 
seventy  pounds  of  baggage  from  the  boat  to  the  cars,  at 
Yverdon,  without  strain.  As  the  autumn  advances,  he  is 
still  improving.  On  one  of  his  walks  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Montreux,  as  he  is  pushing  along,  eating  grapes,  a 
cheery  voice  calls  out,  "  Can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  Bos 
ton  meetin'-hoiise  ? "  He  turns,  and  meets  the  jocund 
face  of  J.  T.  Fields  the  publisher,  who  was  walking  over 
from  Vevay  to  see  him.  He  steadily  gains  in  weight ; 
reaches,  in  fact,  a  hundred  and  fifty-eight  and  a  third 
pounds,  —  more  than  he  had  weighed  for  twenty-nine  years. 

Autumn  draws  on  fast.  Desor  has  come  down  from 
his  mountain-perch  to  his  residence  in  Neufchatel,  and 
bids  his  friend  to  make  him  a  parting-visit  there  in  the 


520  THEODORE  PARKER. 

vintage-time.  The  scientific  men  have  returned  to  their 
duties  in  the  cities.  It  is  time  to  think  of  winter-quar 
ters  ;  to  bid  good-by  to  the  Dent  du  Midi,  the  hills, 
the  lake,  the  lovely  meadows,  and  find  a  shelter  elsewhere 
from  the  cold  and  wind.  After  much  deliberation,  study 
of  climates,  forecasting  of  probabilities,  Rome  is  decided 
on  finally.  The  party  of  pilgrims  break  up  their  pleasant 
quarters  at  Montreux  on  the  i2th  of  October,  and  set  their 
faces  toward  Marseilles  by  way  of  Geneva  and  Lyons. 
Marseilles  is  left  on  the  i;th:  on  the  igth  the  sombre 
city  lets  him  in.  Again,  lines  written  in  other  years  come 

to  mind :  — 

\ 

"  For  all  the  trials  of  my  earlier  day, 
I  thank  thee,  Father,  that  they  all  have  been  ; 
That  darkness  lay  about  the  rugged  way 
Which  I  must  tread  alone.     For  all  I've  seen 
Of  disappointment,  sorrow,  pain,  and  loss, 
I  thank  thee  for  them  all.     And  did  I  sin, 
I  grieve  not  I've  been  tried  ;  for  e'en  the  cross 
Of  penitence  has  taught  me  how  to  win. 
Yet,  of  the  ills  as  child  or  man  I've  borne, — 
My  hopes  laid  waste,  or  friends  sent  off  by  death,  — 
Remorse  has  most  of  all  my  bosom  torn 
For  time  misspent,  ill  deeds,  or  evil  breath. 
But  yet,  for  every  grief  my  heart  has  worn, 
Father,  I  thank  thee,  still  trusting  with  hearty  faith." 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


THE   ETERNAL   CITY. 

PLEASANT  lodgings  were  found  in  the  Via  delle  Quatro 
Fontane,  No.  16,  on  the  fourth  floor,  a  hundred  and 
twenty  steps  from  the  street ;  the  stairs  rising  in  four 
flights  of  thirty  steps  each.  There  were  four  rooms, 
fourteen  or  fifteen  feet  high,  well  furnished  "  for  Italy," 
comfortably  carpeted,  with  large  windows  to  the  east  and 
southj  giving  plentiful  air  and  sunshine,  when  there  was 
any,  all  day.  Dinner  was  sent  in  from  a  German  eating- 
house.  The  house  stood  high,  in  an  airy,  dry  part  of  the 
city.  From  its  upper  stories  it  commanded  a  view  of  the 
whole  city :  below,  a  magnificent  prospect  stretched  out 
in  every  direction.  Close  by  was  the  Quirinal  Palace, 
its  gardens  lying  between  :  on  the  other  side  was  the 
Pincian  Hill,  with  its  fine  trees  and  shrubbery.  St.  Peter's 
was  in  full  view  from  base  to  dome,  standing  out  against 
the  dark  background  of  the  Etruscan  Hills.  The  Palazzo 
Barberini,  where  William  Story  the  sculptor  lived,  was 
hard  by.  Nothing  could  promise  better.  The  Apthorps 
and  Hunts  occupied  the  third  floor  of  the  same  building, 
ready  at  all  times  with  social  cheer,  and,  in  case  of  an 
emergency,  with  every  thing  that  lay  within  reach  of  hu 
man  power.  Daily  existence  was  laid  out  on  a  simple 
plan,  which  the  weather  alone  deranged.  The  needs  of 
the  invalid  were  the  care  of  all :  unhappily,  the  invalid 
could  not,  with  the  very  best  intentions,  care  for  himself. 
44*  521 


522  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  same  irritability  of  brain  that  made  rest  impossible 
in  the  West  Indies  made  it  equally  —  if  it  could  be,  more 
—  impossible  in  Rome.  Before  he  had  got  into  his  apart 
ments,  before  he  had  been  two  days  in  the  city,  prowling 
about,  he  came  across,  in  a  stall,  a  Dutch  book  on  the  Ex 
istence  of  God,  —  a  book  he  had  never  before  been  able  to 
find,  —  and  bought  it  for  half  a  dollar.  In  the  course  of  a 
week,  he  had  begun  work  enough  to  employ  a  well  man's 
days ;  being  nothing  less  than  the  study  of  Rome,  —  its 
geology,  its  flora  and  fauna,  its  archaeology,  its  architect 
ure.  He  carries  his  Mommsen  with  him  in  his  mind  as 
he  visits  daily  some  of  the  places  famous  in  legend  or 
history.  A  vast  amount  of  reading  of  no  light  kind  is 
done.  His  shelves  are  filled  with  a  long  range  of  learned 
works,  in  different  languages,  on  Rome  and  Italy.  All 
the  newspapers  he  can  get  are  on  his  table.  He  keeps 
the  run  of  political  events  in  Europe  and  America,  follow 
ing  minutely  the  course  of  affairs  in  Church  and  State,  so 
that  he  could  talk  with  statesmen  about  them.  His  cor 
respondence  is  unintermitted.  Ponderous  letters,  big  as 
pamphlets,  come  from  his  restless  pen,  which,  debarred 
from  writing  lectures  and  sermons,  puts  the  same  amount 
of  material  into  epistolary  form.  His  letters  are  disser 
tations,  crammed  with  facts  and  reflections.  Scarcely  a 
note  escapes  from  him  that  has  not  passages  which  only  a 
scholar  and  thinker  could  have  written.  To  one  friend  he 
writes  a  summary  of  the  epochs  in  the  history  of  Rome 
itself ;  to  another,  an  account  of  agriculture  in  the  Papal 
States  ;  to  another  he  gives  an  outside  and  inside  view  of 
ecclesiastical  institutions  there ;  to  yet  others,  interested 
in  such  matters,  descriptions  of  domestic  economy, 
humorous  sketches  of  popular  manners,  statistics  of  pop 
ulation  or  trade,  comparative  tables  illustrating  the 
numerical  strength  or  the  social  condition  of  various 
classes  of  the  people  ;  all  done  methodically  and  with 
conscience.  His  brain  is  singularly  alive  ;  his  observ- 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  523 

ing  power  keen  and  swift.  Nothing  escapes  him  in  the 
street.  Passing  a  book-shop,  his  eye  takes  in  the  title  of 
every  volume  displayed  in  the  window  j  going  by  a  fruit- 
stall,  he  notices  every  unfamiliar  nut  or  berry  or  plant,  and 
will  not  pass  on  till  he  has  learned  all  about  it.  His 
memory  does  not  fail  him :  his  reasoning  faculty  is  ever 
on  the  alert.  At  Mrs.  Browning's  a  pamphlet  is  men 
tioned,  —  "  Le  Pape  et  le  Congres,"  by  M.  Guerronniere. 
Mrs.  Browning  has  not  seen  it,  only  heard  of  its  general 
character.  Nobody,  apparently,  knows  it  but  Mr.  Parker, 
who  had  seen  a  translation  of  it  in  "The  London  Times." 
He  takes  up  the  book  at  once  ;  gives  a  full  account  of  it,  — 
its  fundamental  positions,  its  argument,  its  bearing,  —  and 
dilates  on  its  tendency  and  probable  effect  in  different 
quarters  ;  his  hearers  listening  with  more  than  interest  to 
the  development  of  ideas  as  they  flow  from  the  eloquent 
speaker's  lips.  On  another  occasion  he  was  breakfast 
ing  with  William  Story  in  company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Apthorp,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Twisselton,  Mrs.  Stowe,  Haw 
thorne,  Bryant,  Gibson,  and  Browning.  The  conversation 
turned  on  malarious  soils.  Mr.  Parker,  who,  up  to  that 
point,  had  said  little  (the  act  of  talking  being  painful  to 
him),  struck  in  here  ;  gave  an  account  of  malarious  regions, 
their  peculiarities,  their  formation,  their  influence,  and  the 
precautions  to  be  observed  in  guarding  against  their 
poison.  "  No  miasma,"  he  said,  "  could  penetrate  through 
fifteen  feet  of  pure  gravel."  The  old  residents  in  Rome, 
who  might  be  presumed  familiar  with  the  subject,  were 
the  most  interested  and  the  most  astonished  at  the  unex 
pected  wealth  of  information,  and  freely  expressed  their 
amazement  as  they  left  the  table  ;  Mr.  Browning  remark 
ing  to  Mrs.  Apthorp,  "  What  a  wonderful  man  !  None  of 
us  knew  the  facts  he  told  us."  In  this  instance  the  sub 
ject  was  one  to  which  Mr.  Parker,  from  the  circum 
stances  of  his  birthplace,  the  hereditary  disease  in  his 
family,  and  the  fact  of  his  own  illness,  had  given  par- 


524  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ticular  attention.  But  the  marvel  of  his  information  was 
as  great  in  departments  which  would  seem  to  lie  remote 
from  any  interest  or  study  of  his.  Thus,  being  in  a  com 
pany  with  ladies,  one  of  whom  had  a  trimming  of  beau 
tiful  lace  on  a  portion  of  her  dress,  and  question  arising 
in  regard  to  its  manufacture,  Mr.  Parker  was  alone  able 
to  answer ;  having,  it  would  appear  to  a  stranger,  freshly 
informed  himself  on  the  whole  subject  of  lace-making. 
Omniscience  was  his  forte  :  during  these  last  six  months 
in  Rome  it  was  his  weakness.  Every  thing  about  him, 
the  wonderful  city,  the  singular  aspect  of  all  things,  the 
strange  modes  of  life,  the  restlessness  attendant  on  his 
disease,  the  effort  to  forget  himself,  all  conspired  to 
sharpen  every  mental  faculty  to  the  utmost.  All  actions, 
even  the  wisest,  were  overdone. 

He  had  been  advised  to  pass  as  much  time  as  he  could 
in  the  open  air.  He  seemed  bent  on  spending  all  the 
daytime  there.  The  bad  weather  seldom  kept  him  in. 
In  the  early  autumn  (October)  he  walked  six  or  seven 
hours  a  day,  though  he  had  lost  eight  pounds  since  Combe 
Varin.  He  explores  the  ancient  city  on  foot,  searching 
about  in  the  squares  and  gardens  for  the  localities  of 
famous  deeds,  identifying  temples  and  palaces  in  the 
Forum,  mousing  round  in  the  quarter  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Tiber,  examining  the  gates  and  walls,  searching  after 
the  remains  of  theatres ;  the  inseparable  umbrella  in  his 
hand,  often  over  his  head.  He  does  not  know  how  or 
where  to  stop,  a  preternatural  power  of  endurance  holding 
him  up,  and  pushing  him  on.  In  the  middle  of  January, 
1860,  when  he  has  lost  ten  or  twelve  pounds  of  flesh, 
looks  paler  and  thinner  in  the  face,  weaker  in  the  eyes, 
and  is  more  nervous  and  desponding,  the  power  of  walk 
ing  does  not  abate.  In  April,  but  little  more  than  a 
month  before  the  end  came,  he  rides  on  a  donkey  to 
Frascati  and  to  Tusculum  two  miles  beyond,  among  the 
mountains,  —  in  all,  some  twelve  miles  distant  from  Rome  , 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  525 

and  every  day  he  must  descend  and  ascend  those  hundred 
and  twenty  steps. 

He  cannot  keep  out  of  churches.  The  pomps  attract, 
while  they  disgust  him  ;  the  antiquities  attract.  The  old 
churches  of  Sts.  Cosmo  and  Damien  (supposed  to  be  built 
on  ancient  sites),  the  temples  of  Janus  and  Ceres,  the 
mausoleum  of  Augustus,  draw  him  as  an  archaeologist. 
The  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  the  Ara  Cceli,  the  San  Lo 
renzo  without  the  walls,  San  Carlo,  and  many  another, 
were,  of  course,  intensely  interesting  ;  but  they  were  hardly 
places  which  a  physician  would  recommend  a  consumptive 
invalid  to  frequent  in  ugly  weather.  He  confesses  that  he 
catches  bad  colds,  and  coughs  shockingly,  now  and  then 
raising  blood ;  but  he  cannot  desist.  The  places  are  either 
curious  or  amusing :  in  either  case  he  is  taken  out  of  him 
self  ;  entertained  for  the  hour,  if  for  no  longer.  In  what 
different  spirit,  with  what  different  purposes,  he  went  over 
all  that  ground  fifteen  years  before,  taking  in  stores  of 
thought  that  were  to  serve  and  cheer  him  in  many  future 
years  !  now  killing  weary  days,  and  trying  to  calm  a  rest 
less  mind  which  had  no  more  work  to  do  on  earth,  but 
wished  to  get  from  earth  such  peace  as  it  could  before  the 
great  future  opened. 

Friendship  did  all  for  him  that  friendship  could.  A 
devoted  care,  patient  and  sweet,  was  always  with  him. 
Dearer  hearts  than  those  under  the  same  roof  with  him 
there  were  not  in  the  world.  There  was  the  smallest  pos 
sible  friction  of  temper.  The  kindest  of  companions 
attended  him  in  his  walks.  The  affectionate  thoughtful- 
ness  of  the  Storys  and  Brownings  was  gratefully  acknowl 
edged.  Miss  Charlotte  Cushman  did  all  a  good  heart 
prompted  to  cheer  the  tiresome  days.  Dr.  Frothingham 
of  Boston,  who  was  spending  the  winter  in  Rome  with  his 
family,  came  in  and  chatted  about  poetry,  the  theatre, 
people.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  T.  Thayer  toiled  dutifully  up 
the  hundred  and  twenty  steps  to  comfort  the  sick  man. 


526  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Artists  he  saw  now  and  then,  —  William  Page,  Harriet 
Hosmer.  Story  entertained  him  with  various  learning  and 
wit,  and  kept  him  employed  in  his  studio  while  making 
his  bust.  But  society  was  tantalizing,  at  times  exasperat 
ing  ;  for  the  invalid  could  not  talk  without  pain,  and  to 
listen  without  responding  did  not  calm  his  mind.  He 
avoided  social  occasions,  even  of  the  most  attractive  sort. 
"  I  sit  at  all  entertainments,"  he  says,  "  like  the  coffin  in 
the  Egyptian  feasts." 

The  climate  of  Rome,  this  winter,  was  cruel  to  the  sick 
who  sought  its  hospitality,  —  wet,  cold,  windy,  disagreeable. 
The  summer  had  been  dry  and  cold.  The  rainy  season 
set  in  early,  and  continued  late.  It  rained  when  he 
arrived  ;  it  rained  for  two  or  three  weeks  afterward.  "  For 
nine  or  ten  weeks,  it  beat  any  thing  I  ever  knew  in  New 
England  for  badness;"  "Cloudy  and  foggy;"  "Chilly 
and  cold  :  "  these  are  the  records  in  the  journal.  "  A  most 
fitful  climate.  I  have  been  here  near  four  months,  and 
have  seen  no  particle  of  dust  till  yesterday.  It  has  rained 
almost  all  the  time ;  yet  out  of  the  one  hundred  and 
twenty  days  there  have  been  but  eight  when  I  have  not 
walked  out  an  hour  or  two."  "  Rome  is  the  dampest  city  I 
was  ever  in.  The  walls  and  roofs  are  green  and  yellow 
with  fuci  and  lichens  of  various  kinds.  The  Tramontana 
wind  is  cold  and  arid :  that  makes  me  cough  at  once." 
Invalids,  or  people  who  had  been  invalid,  cheered  him  by 
telling  what  Rome  had  done  for  them  ;  but  its  kindly 
offices  are  not  for  him.  He  writes  to  Miss  Cobbe,  "  Rome 
has  not  used  me  well  this  winter,  and  I  shall  leave  it  with 
but  one  regret ;  viz.,  that  I  came  here  at  all.  I  have  lost 
three  pounds  a  month  since  I  left  Switzerland,  and  have 
gained  nothing  but  a  great  cough." 

The  city,  too,  was  more  than  usually  gloomy.  There 
were  fewer  strangers  there ;  and  consequently  there  was 
less  industry,  more  complaint,  more  beggary.  "  Rome  is 
an  ugly  old  place.  The  past  is  all :  there  is  no  present  but 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  527 

misery,  and  no  future  but  decay  and  destruction.  It  is  a 
fossil  city,  utterly  foreign  to  me  and  mine.  I  abhor  its 
form  of  religion,  which  is  only  ceremony :  I  despise  its 
theology,  and  find  little  to  respect  in  its  lying,  treacherous, 
and  unreliable  inhabitants.  It  is  a  city  of  the  dead.  It 
has  a  threefold  past,  but  no  future."  The  finest  of  ruins 
are  not  cheering  to  a  man  who  feels  his  steps  tending 
towards  decay. 

The  memory  of  the  brave  young  America,  where  his 
heart  was,  deepened  the  gloom  of  the  old  city,  and  made 
existence  there  at  times  almost  unbearable.  Through  let 
ters  and  newspapers  he  was  informed  of  all  that  went  on 
there  in  the  world  of  religion,  politics,  society :  the  petty 
sectarian  quarrels,  the  pettier  sectarian  manoeuvres,  were 
all  reported  to  him.  With  beating  heart  he  followed  the 
fortunes  of  the  deepening  fight  between  liberty  and  slave 
ry,  noting  the  names  of  those  that  battled  well  and  of 
those  that  faltered,  measuring  forces,  balancing  proba 
bilities,  forecasting  issues,  cheering  the  combatants,  and 
aching  with  agony  because  he  could  not  be  where  the  strife 
was  hottest.  The  heroic  venture  of  his  friend  John 
Brown  was  made  while  he  was  on  his  way  from  Switzer 
land  to  Italy.  Every  step  of  that  great  exploit  he  traced 
with  eager  emotion,  bore  in  mind  tenderly  the  day  of  exe 
cution,  and  listened  breathlessly  for  the  echoes  that  came 
from  the  hills  of  the  North.  Every  brave  word  spoken 
reached  his  ear;  every  responsive  act  done  by  roused 
leaders  or  indignant  people,  every  movement  prophetic  of 
popular  uprising,  made  the  blood  fly  in  his  veins.  It  is 
anguish  to  be  idle  and  useless  when  soldiers  are  needed 
as  never  before.  He  would  share  the  fate  of  his  friends,  — 
Sumner,  Wilson,  Hale,  Seward,  Gerritt  Smith,  Stearns, 
Howe,  the  faithful  few  who  dared  stand  up  for  principle. 
"  O  George  ! "  he  cries  to  his  friend  Ripley,  "  the  life  I 
am  here  slowly  dragging  to  an  end,  tortuous  but  painless, 
is  very,  very  imperfect,  and  fails  of  much  I  meant  to  hit, 


528  THEODORE  PARKER. 

and  might  have  reached,  nay,  should,  had  there  been  ten 
or  twenty  years  more  left  for  me.  But,  on  the  whole,  it  has 
not  been  a  mean  life,  measured  by  the  common  run  of  men  ; 
never  a  selfish  one.  Above  all  things  else,  I  have  sought 
to  teach  the  true  idea  of  man,  of  God,  of  religion,  with 
its  truths,  its  duties,  and  its  joys.  I  never  fought  for  my 
self,  nor  against  a  private  foe,  but  have  gone  into  the 
battle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  followed  the  flag  of 
humanity.  Now  I  am  ready  to  die,  though  conscious  that 
I  leave  half  my  work  undone ;  and  much  grain  lies  in  my 
fields,  waiting  only  for  Him  that  gathereth  sheaves.  I 
would  rather  lay  my  bones  with  my  fathers  and  mothers 
at  Lexington,  and  think  I  may;  but  will  not  complain  if 
earth  or  sea  shall  cover  them  up  elsewhere." 

To  all  who  had  been  true  to  him  his  feeling  was  ex 
ceedingly  tender.  He  had  finished  a  long  letter  to  his 
old  friend  Charles  Ellis,  when  the  news  came  of  his  death. 
Immediately  a  touching  letter  goes  to  his  widow :  "  He 
was  one  of  my  oldest  friends,  one  of  the  faithfullest,  one 
of  the  nearest  and  dearest.  His  friendship  never  failed  ; 
and  I  never  asked  him  in  vain  to  help  another.  Let  us 
not  complain.  Tenderly  loved  by  those  who  knew  him 
best,  widely  respected  by  many  whom  he  worked  with  in 
the  various  duties  of  the  day,  at  a  considerable  age  he 
has  gone  home.  He  has  shaken  off  a  worn-out  and 
broken  body  continually  racked  with  torturing  pains, 
and  risen  up  a  free  and  unfettered  spirit.  I  think  it  for 
tunate  for  him,  for  you,  for  us  all,  that  he  was  spared  that 
long  agony  which  wearies  out  the  day  of  many,  and 
makes  the  road  to  the  grave  so  rough  and  difficult.  Not 
long  ago,  poor  Katie  went  before  him,  lamenting  that  she 
must  go  alone.  Now  he  is  with  her.  Nay,  she  went  to 
make  ready  a  place  in  heaven  for  her  father,  who  so  ten 
derly  prepared  a  place  for  her  on  earth."  The  wife  of 
another  of  his  well -beloved  parishioners,  Mrs.  George 
Jackson,  passed  away ;  and  another  message  of  love  and 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  529 

faith  flew  from  his  pen  :  "  Who  would  not  wish  for  so 
smooth  a  sail  out  of  this  little  sea,  and  into  the  great  wide 
haven  we  are  all  bound  to  ?  Most  men  dread  dying,  but 
not  death.  I  can't  think  our  present  deaths  natural,  or  to 
continue  always.  If  something  were  not  wrong  in  our 
mode  of  life,  we  should  all  glide  gently  out  of  the  world ; 
but  we  must  bear  the  misfortunes  that  others  entail  on  us. 
If  it  were  fate,  it  could  not  be  borne  ;  but  when  we  look 
on  it  as  providence,  the  work  of  an  infinite  Father  and 
Mother,  who  looks  eternally  before,  and  eternally  looks 
after,  and  rules  all  things  from  love  as  motive,  and  for 
blessedness  as  end,  we  can  take  almost  any  thing  with  a 
smile." 

His  faith  in  the  eternal  present  and  the  immortal  future 
never  fainted.  He  felt  that  the  sky  was  always  blue  above 
the  clouds  :  if  the  star  rose  in  mist,  it  cleared  itself  as  it 
ascended.  As  the  mortal  disease  gained  on  him,  —  as  it 
did,  and  as  he  better  than  anybody  knew  that  it  did,  for 
he  observed  and  noted  each  physical  change,  —  the  strug 
gle  of  nature  against  dissolution  was  carried  on  in  every 
department  of  his  frame.  That  vigorous  organization  was 
not  soon  reconciled  to  death.  Compactly  knitted  and 
sturdily  built  as  if  to  last  a  century,  it  could  not  consent 
to  break  up.  It  had  to  be  taken  to  pieces  slowly,  each 
part  separately  detached ;  and  the  process  made  the  very 
seat  of  the  soul  tremble.  The  finest  nerves  were  wrung. 
The  sweetest  bells  became  jangled  and  out  of  tune.  The 
mechanism  of  hope  and  faith  and  trust  was  occasionally 
disordered,  and  responded  faintly  to  the  bidding  of  the  will. 
The  column  was  moved  on  which  the  telescope  rested  that 
used  to  pick  out  the  tiniest  stars  in  the  night  heavens,  and 
the  fields  of  light  were  blurred.  The  sick  man  had  the 
sick  man's  fancies,  —  was  restless  and  self-tormenting; 
wanted  what  he  could  not  have ;  was  capricious  about 
meat  and  drink  and  medicine ;  had  the  usual  unaccount 
able  likes  and  dislikes.  His  case  being  desperate,  he 
45 


530  THEODORE  PARKER. 

would  clutch  at  straws,  and  try  experiments  with  himself, 
which  varied  from  day  to  day ;  refused  all  regular  treat 
ment.  He  was  never  a  good  subject  for  nurse  or  physi 
cian  :  he  knew  too  much  ;  was  too  self-dependent ;  call  it, 
if  you  please,  too  self-willed.  He  was  subject  to  extreme 
physical  depression  from  excessive  weakness.  At  such 
limes,  waves  of  sorrow  would  roll  over  the  helpless  soul. 
The  accumulated  weight  of  former  years,  which  he  had 
kept  back  by  main  force  before,  now  crowded  in  with 
irresistible  power :  then,  his  faith  and  trust  asserting 
themselves  as  the  billows  receded  for  a  moment,  his 
spirit  rose  with  a  bound  into  regions  of  joyous  antici 
pation,  where  sorrow  seemed  impossible,  and  labor  light. 
Even  an  apostle  felt  the  strait  a  close  one  between  living 
and  dying,  when,  though  dying  was  gain,  living  was  Christ. 
We  will  say  no  more  about  it.  It  was  nobody's  fault 
that  the  long,  trying  sickness  was  distressing:  it  had 
to  be.  Death  seemed  unnatural  with  such  a  creature. 
The  loving  ones  who  ministered  to  him  knew  it,  and 
tenderly  forgot  what  they  saw  it  would  grieve  him 
bitterly  to  have  them  remember.  For  them  to  forget 
was  easy ;  for  pitying  affection  was  uppermost  in  their 
hearts,  and  gratitude  was  uppermost  in  his.  Indeed,  he 
compelled  them  to  forget  by  the  astonishing  vigor  of 
his  mind.  Only  three  weeks  before  he  died,  as  he  lay 
one  day  in  Rome,  with  one  eye  closed  from  feebleness, 
the  whole  man  apparently  in  the  last  stage  of  pros 
tration,  a  friend  who  had  been  absent  in  Florence  for  two 
weeks  came  in.  "  What  news  ? "  inquired  the  patient.  The 
visitor  took  from  her  pocket  two  or  three  unpublished 
translations,  by  Owen  Meredith,  from  the  Romance 
dialect.  "  Read  them  to  me."  As  she  read,  the  wan 
countenance  regained  its  animation ;  speech  returned. 
He  took  the  papers  from  her  hand,  read  them  himself  aloud, 
explained  the  obscure  lines  as  he  went  on,  and  ended  by 
giving  a  history  of  the  dialect,  and  an  account  of  the 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  531 

sources  whence  the  poems  were  taken,  as  if  that  kind  of 
literature  had  been  the  study  of  his  life. 

As  the  weeks  wore  on,  and  spring  came  again,  hope 
seemed  to  revive.  He  talked  of  travel.  He  would  go  to 
Naples  and  see  Vesuvius,  perhaps  to  Passtum,  afterwards 
to  Siena,  Pisa,  Florence,  Milan,  Venice,  thence  to  Vienna, 
so  into  Germany,  and  round  into  Switzerland.  Of  ulti 
mate  recovery  he  had  no  hope  ;  none  of  substantial  im 
provement  :  but  he  thought  he  might  reach  home  and  die. 
His  longing  was  for  his  friend  Desor :  "  Let  us  see  you 
here  soon;  for  you  are  the  medicine  I  ueed  most  of  all, 
and  may  do  me  just  the  good  thing  I  need  to  set  me  on 
my  legs  again."  At  length  Desor  came,  but  too  late. 
The  sight  of  him  gave  strength  for  a  moment ;  but  his 
society  was  exhausting.  Still,  as  this  note  —  the  last  he 
ever  finished,  to  Miss  Stevenson  in  Florence  —  bears  wit 
ness,  his  courage  did  not  fail.  Perhaps  the  thought  of 
leaving  Rome  stirred  the  embers  of  hope  in  him. 

ROME,  SUNDAY  (QUASIMODO),  April  15,  1860. 

Poo  OLE  LAD  YE,  —  It  is  fine  weather  to-day;  and,  before 
Dr.  A.  and  Desor  come  here,  I  will  try  and  write  you  a  little 
letter.  Yesterday  was  dreadful  weather,  and  I  did  not  go  out  of 
doors.  I  think  I  have  been  mending  ever  since  Desor  came. 
But  it  is  too  much  for  him  to  dine  here  every  day  :  so  he  lodges 
and  dines  mainly  at  his  hotel ;  and  we  drive  together ;  and  he 
stays  an  hour  or  two  or  more,  and  talks  to  me.  I  sleep  tolera 
bly  well,  and  do  not  complain.  The  sore  throat  seems  to  be  im 
proving. 

Wife  is  as  cheerful  and  happy  as  you  could  look  for  with  all 
her  anxieties  ;  the  best  and  tenderest  of  nurses  ;  not  at  all  fussy. 
She  lies  down  on  the  sofa  after  dinner,  and  sleeps  an  hour  or 
so  :  this  both  helps -her  to  sleep  in  the  night  all  the  better,  and, 
what  is  more,  to  keep  cheerful  and  active  in  the  day.  It  is 
what  she  always  needed,  but  would  not  take. 

Cabot  thinks  it  better  for  me  to  come  home  about  Sept.  I  ; 
and  Desor  proposes  nice  little  plans  for  the  summer,  —  partly  of 
travel,  partly  of  residence  at  Combe  Varin.  But  all  this  must 


532  THEODORE  PARKER. 

depend  on  a  contingency  which  I  cannot  control :  therefore   I 
leave  all  undecided. 

We  shall  travel  north  with  the  spring  ;  keeping  in  warm 
weather  till  we  come  into  Switzerland.  Next  Saturday,  Apple- 
tons  and  all  of  us  hope  to  start  in  a  vettura  for  Florence,  -via 
Perugia.  It  will  take  us  about  six  days  ;  and,  if  you  will  ask 
Mrs.  M.  to  take  us  into  two  rooms  then,  you  will  confer  a  new 
favor,  especially  if  we  get  in.  /  can '/  go  up  high  :  the  hun 
dred  and  twenty  steps  have  been  almost  fatal  to  me ;  and  I 
thank  God  that  I  am  to  ascend  them  but  five  times  more. 

This  is  all  that  will  run  out  of  my  pen  this  morning,  and 
perhaps  the  last  I  shall  write  you  from  Rome ;  for  I  hate  a  pen 
now-a-davs.  Good-by ! 

Boo! 

But  he  had  changed  sadly  since  the  days  of  Combe 
Varin  :  he  looked  ten  years  older  ;  had  become  an  old 
man.  It  was  plain  to  everybody,  soon  it  was  plain  to 
him,  that  all  travelling  was  impossible,  except,  perhaps, 
what  was  necessary  to  take  him  away  from  the  city,  the 
aspect  whereof  had  become  ghastly  to  him,  whose  atmos 
phere  was  mental  poison.  Then  the  desire  to  get  away 
from  Rome  and  its  detestable  climate  became  morbidly 
intense.  He  was  impatient  to  go  ;  fretted  under  the  de 
lays  caused  by  the  weather ;  insisted  on  departing. 
"  Should  you  fail  on  the  road ;  should  you  die  in  a  tav 
ern!" —  "I  will  not  die  so.  I  will  reach  Florence.  My 
bones  shall  not  rest  in  this  detested  soil.  I  will  go  to 
Florence  ;  and  I  will  get  there,  I  promise  you." 

The  sad  procession  set  off  by  vettitrino,  by  way  of  Peru 
gia.  The  journey  was  made  to  last  five  days,  —  about 
thirty  miles  a  day ;  the  patient  resting  as  much  as  he  could, 
attempting  no  excursions,  but  inquisitive  in  regard  to  all 
the  others  saw.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  when  we  pass  the 
frontier  and  leave  the  Papal  States  behind.  If  I  am  asleep, 
wake  me  to  tell  it."  The  post,  newly  painted  red,  white, 
and  green,  the  colors  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  was  passed 
in  the  daytime.  He  observed  it,  and  roused  himself  as 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  533 

if  electrified.    His  eyes  burned  with  enthusiasm.     Now,  at 
least,  he  should  die  in  a  free  land. 

Florence  was  reached,  but  hardly.  The  sick  man  was 
more  than  ready  to  accept  the  rest  it  offered.  He  wel 
comed  his  last  bed.  There,  day  after  day,  he  lay  quietly, 
his  back  to  the  window,  his  eyelids  quivering,  his  mind 
much  of  the  time  in  a  half-conscious  state,  his  thoughts 
wandering  in  pleasant  places.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
America ;  he  was  at  home  again  among  his  dear  parish 
ioners.  "  Come,  Bearsie,  let  us  go  and  see  our  friends." 
Once  he  tried  to  write  a  note  to  good  John  Ayres,  the 
friend  of  many  years :  — 

FLORENCE,  May  3. 

MY  DEAR  JOHN  AYRES,  —  So  I  shall  still  call  you.  Will 
you  come  over  to-morrow  and  see  us,  just  after  your  dinner 
time  ?  Bring  me  a  last  year's  apple  if  you  can,  or  any  new 
melon. 

Yours  truly,  T.  P. 

You  get  into  my  house  not  far  from  good  Mr.  Cummings's 
grocery. 

His  broken  talk  ran  upon  his  old  days  and  old  delights. 
Grateful  messages  fell  from  his  murmuring  lips  :  — 

"Mr.  Gooding's  pears!  —  thank  him.  Couldn't  forget  the 
autumn  pears  !  " 

"  Love  to  Aunt  Mary  :  that  is  all  that  I  can  send  her." 
"  Tell  the  Miss  Thayers  I  would  like  to  see  them ;  that  I 
went  away  in  February,  1859,  and  came  back  in  July,  1860.     I 
should  like  to  touch  them,  and  treat  on  Boston  Common." 

He  was  in  his  house,  his  library.  One  day  he  declared 
that  all  was  confusion  there ;  and  it  was :  the  careful 
housekeeper  was  sweeping  it  at  the  moment,  unconscious 
that  the  master's  exorbitant  sensibility  was  restlessly  mov 
ing  about  the  room,  disturbed  by  her  dust.  When  the 
fever-fits  were  on  him,  he  would  rouse  himself  as  if  to  pre- 
45* 


534  THEODORE  PARKER. 

pare  for  a  journey.  "  When  is  that  vessel  going  ?  Will  it 
not  go  soon  ? "  In  clearer  moments  he  would  be  aware  of 
his  condition,  and  bid  affectionate  adieus  to  those  about 
him  ;  then,  rallying,  would  talk  his  old  child's  talk  with  his 
wife  and  Miss  Stevenson,  his  wasted  appearance  contrast 
ing  singularly  with  the  fresh  welling-over  of  his  emotion. 
In  these  last  days  he  was  never  petulant  or  exacting.  His 
gentlest  consideration  returned  to  him  :  he  asked  humbly 
for  service,  and  gratefully  thanked  those  who  gave  it. 

Miss  Frances  Power  Cobbe  —  one  of  the  truest  of  his 
spiritual  friends,  in  whose  books  he  had  interested  himself 
when  in  Boston,  with  whom  he  had  corresponded,  whom 
he  hoped  to  see  in  London,  but  had  never  met — was  in 
Florence,  and  impatient  to  see  him.  Collecting  himself 
by  a  great  effort,  the  sick  man  received  her  tenderly  at  his 
bedside.  "  It  is  strange  that  we  should  meet  thus  at  last. 
But  you  do  not  see  me  ;  only  the  memory  of  me.  They 
who  wish  me  well  wish  me  a  speedy  departure  to  the  other 
world.  Of  course,  I  am  not  afraid  to  die ;  but  there  is 
so  much  to  do  !  "  —  "  But  you  have  done  much.  You  have 
given  your  life  to  God,  to  his  truth  and  his  work,  as  truly 
as  any  old  martyr  of  them  all."  —  "I  don't  know,"  was  the 
reply.  "  I  had  great  powers  committed  to  me :  I  have 
but  half  used  them."  She  gave  him  flowers,  —  tea-roses, 
some  lilies  of  the  valley.  The  gentle  touch  of  nature 
woke  the  soul  of  nature  in  him.  A  heavenly  smile  suffused 
his  face,  which  made  his  visitor  wonder  how  any  should 
have  thought  him  homely.  His  spirit  roused,  he  talked 
with  animation  of  the  flowers  of  America,  then  of  literature, 
—  the  literature  of  Italy.  The  veil  was  lifted  ;  and  Miss 
Cobbe  had  a  glimpse  of  the  man  as  he  was  in  his  prime. 
"  Do  not  speak  of  your  feeling  for  me,"  he  said :  "  it 
makes  me  too  unhappy  to  leave  you."  He  wanted  to  see 
her  every  day,  but  could  not :  the  pleasure  was  too  excit 
ing.  When  he  did,  the  gleams  of  light  came  at  intervals 
across  a  dreamy  waste  of  mind.  The  lilies  caused  a  glad- 


THE  ETERNAL   CITY.  535 

ness  that  soon  faded.  "  What  day  is  it  ?  "  —  "  Sunday,  a 
blessed  day."  —  "  It  is  a  blessed  day  when  one  has  got  over 
the  superstition  of  it."  "  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  he 
said  earnestly  at  one  of  these  interviews.  "  There  are 
two  Theodore  Parkers  now:  one  is  dying  here  in  Italy;  the 
other  I  have  planted  in  America.  He  will  live  there,  and 
finish  my  work."  Weeks  before  this  there  were  moments, 
moments  in  almost  every  day,  when  the  shattered  mental 
system  responded  to  no  supreme  effort  at  control.  The 
mainspring  of  the  mechanism  was  fatally  weakened  ;  the 
golden  bowl  was  broken ;  the  silver  cord  was  loosed.  Once, 
in  Rome,  his  wife  having  left  the  room,  he  put  a  paper 
into  a  friend's  hand.  It  contained  directions  for  his 
funeral  in  the  Music  Hall.  Rome  and  Boston  were  min 
gled  confusedly  in  his  mind.  "  It  is  all  one,"  he  said. 
"  Phillips  and  Clarke  will  come  for  my  sake."  Notions  of 
time  and  space  were  blurred ;  but  the  noble  heart  was  true 
to  its  instincts.  If  his  mind  wandered,  it  was  in  heavenly 
fields.  He  would  save  his  wife  from  the  bitterness  of  his 
thought.  He  did  his  friends  the  justice  to  think  their  love 
as  all-victorious  as  his  own. 

At  last  the  curtain  fell :  a  gradual  weakness,  without 
pain  or  distress,  pressed  down  the  prostrate  frame.  Men 
tal  action  ceased :  a  soft  mist  crept  over  the  faculties  : 
physical  sensibility  became  less  and  less.  On  the  loth  of 
May  he  fell  asleep,  so  softly,  that  the  most  anxious  watch 
ers  knew  not  that  the  last  breath  had  been  drawn.  The 
slumber  of  a  little  child  was  in  his  case  more  than  a  meta 
phor.  The  great  soul  had  gone,  and  a  simplicity  as  of 
infancy  rested  on  the  deserted  face. 

Three  days  later,  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  the  body  was 
taken  to  the  little  Protestant  cemetery  just  outside  the  city, 
by  the  Pinti  Gate.  It  was  a  feast-day  in  the  city.  The 
body  was  taken  to  its  resting-place  through  streets  that 
were  lined  with  banners,  and  rang  with  rejoicing.  In  the 
narrow  graveyard,  blooming  with  verdure,  it  was  buried. 


536  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  reading  of  the  Beatitudes,  and  the  solemn  thoughts 
of  the  mourners,  made  all  the  service.  It  was  enough. 
Over  few  graves  could  those  immortal  words  be  more  fitly 
spoken.  A  plain  slab  of  gray  marble,  with  the  simplest  of 
inscriptions,  has  told  many  of  his  country  men  and  women 
where  to  leave  their  sweetest  flowers  and  their  tenderest 
tears.  His  own  words  best  express  the  spirit  in  which  he 
met  his  end :  — 

"  Yes,  holy  one,  thou  the  good  Shepherd  art, 
Enduring  hardest  service  for  thy  sheep, 
Hearing  their  bleatings  with  a  human  heart, 
Not  losing  such  as  thou  wert  put  to  keep  ; 
But  feeble  wanderers  from  the  field  astray 
Thou  on 'thy  shoulders  takest,  and  dost  bear 
From  hireling  thieves  and  murdering  wolves  away, 
And  watchest  o'er  them  with  a  guardian  care. 
Thou  art  the  human  Shepherd  of  the  sheep, 
Leading  them  forth  to  pasture  all  the  day ; 
At  night  to  folds  which  them  in  safety  keep. 
Thou  light  and  life  from  God,  to  heaven  the  way, 

And  giving,  at  the  last,  thy  own,  thy  well-beloved,  sleep." 


CHAPTER  XX. 


TRIBUTES. 

THE  tidings  of  Theodore  Parker's  death  caused  a  pro 
found  sensation  in  the  places  that  had  known  him.  At 
the  annual  festival  of  the  Unitarian  Association,  on  Anni 
versary  Week,  it  was  alluded  to  with  feeling  by  men  who 
had  disagreed  with  the  preacher  and  reformer,  but  who 
sincerely  respected  the  man.  At  the  session  of  the  New- 
England  Antislavery  Society,  on  Thursday,  May  31,  reso 
lutions  of  eulogy  were  offered  by  Wendell  Phillips,  which 
the  president  of  the  society,  John  T.  Sargent,  seconded 
in  a  few  appreciative  words,  and  which  Theodore's  loving 
and  beloved  friend,  Samuel  J.  May,  followed  with  a  tribute 
out  of  a  full  heart.  I  shall  not  copy  at  length  the  ad 
dresses  that  were  made  here  or  elsewhere  ;  but  a  few  ex 
tracts  will  be  proper,  as  showing  the  impression  that  Mr. 
Parker  left  on  the  strongest  minds.  The  language  is,  of 
course,  language  of  eulogium  ;  but  it  fell  from  sincere  lips, 
that  were  not  in  the  habit  of  speaking  idle  praise  of  any, 
holding  truth  ever  more  precious  than  tenderness  to  living 
or  to  dead. 

After  some  words  of  introduction,  Mr.  Phillips  said,  — 

"When  some  Americans  die,  when  most  Americans  die, 
their  friends  tire  the  public  with  excuses.  They  confess  this 
spot ;  they  explain  that  stain  ;  they  plead  circumstances  as  the 
half  justification  of  that  mistake  ;  and  they  beg  of  us  to  remem 
ber  that  nothing  but  good  is  to  be  spoken  of  the  dead.  We 

537 


538  THEODORE  PARKER. 

need  no  such  mantle  for  that  green  grave  under  the  sky  of 
Florence  ;  no  excuses,  no  explanations,  no  spot.  Priestly  mal 
ice  has  scanned  every  inch  of  his  garment :  it  was  seamless  ; 
it  could  find  no  stain.  History,  as  in  the  case  of  every  other  of 
her  beloved  children,  gathers  into  her  bosom  the  arrows  which 
malice  had  shot  at  him,  and  says  to  posterity,  '  Behold  the 
title-deeds  of  your  gratitude  ! '  We  ask  no  moment  to  ex 
cuse  :  there  is  nothing  to  explain.  What  the  snarling  journal 
thought  bold,  what  the  selfish  politician  feared  as  his  ruin,  it 
was  God's  seal  set  upon  his  apostleship.  The  little  libel  glanced 
across  him  like  a  rocket  when  it  goes  over  the  vault :  it  is 
passed,  and  the  royal  sun  shines  out  as  beneficent  as  ever. 

"  When  I  returned  from  New  York  on  the  thirteenth  day  of 
this  month,  I  was  to  have  been  honored  by  standing  in  his 
desk ;  but  illness  prevented  my  fulfilling  the  appointment.  It 
was  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  As  he  sank  away  the  same 
week  under  the  fair  sky  of  Italy,  he  said  to  the  most  loving  of 
wives  and  of  nurses,  *  Let  me  be  buried  where  I  fall ; '  and 
tenderly,  thoughtfully,  she  selected  four  o'clock  of  the  same 
Sunday  to  mingle  his  dust  with  the  kindred  dust  of  brave, 
classic  Italy. 

"  Four  o'clock  !  The  same  sun  that  looked  upon  the  half- 
dozen  mourners  that  he  permitted  to  follow  him  to  the  grave, 
that  same  moment  of  brightness,  lighted  up  the  arches  of  his 
own  temple  as  one  whom  he  loved  stepped  into  his  own  desk, 
and  with  remarkable  coincidence,  for  the  only  time  during  his 
absence,  opened  one  of  his  own  sermons  to  supply  my  place ; 
and,  as  his  friend  read  the  Beatitudes  over  his  grave  on  the 
banks  of  the  Arno,  his  dearer  friend  here  read  from  a  manu 
script  the  text,  l  Have  faith  in  God.'  It  is  said  that  in  his  last 
hours,  in  the  wandering  of  that  masterly  brain,  he  murmured, 
*  There  are  two  Theodore  Parkers  :  one  rests  here,  dying  ;  but 
the  other  lives,  and  is  at  work  at  home.'  How  true  !  At  that 
very  moment  he  was  speaking  to  his  usual  thousands  ;  at  that 
very  instant  his  own  words  were  sinking  down  into  the  hearts 
of  those  that  loved  him  best,  and  bidding  them,  in  this  the  lone 
liest  hours  of  their  bereavement,  '  have  faith  in  God.' 

"  He  always  came  to  this  platform  :  he  is  an  old  occupant  of 
it.  He  never  made  an  apology  for  coming  to  it.  I  remember, 
many  years  ago,  going  home  from  the  very  hall  which  formerly 


TRIBUTES.  539 

occupied  this  place.  He  had  sat  where  you  sit,  in  the  seats, 
looking  up  at  us.  It  had  been  a  stormy,  hard  gathering,  a 
close  fight ;  the  press  calumniating  us  ;  every  journal  in  Boston 
ridiculing  the  idea  which  we  were  endeavoring  to  spread.  As  I 
passed  down  the  stairs  homeward,  he  put  his  arm  within  mine, 
and  said,  '  You  shall  never  need  to  ask  me  again  to  share  that 
platform.'  It  was  the  instinct  of  his  nature,  true  as  the  bravest 
heart.  The  spot  for  him  was  where  the  battle  was  hottest.  He 
had  come,  as  half  the  clergy  come,  a  critic.  He  felt  it  was 
not  his  place  ;  that  it  was  to  grapple  with  the  tiger,  and  throttle 
him.  And  the  pledge  that  he  made  he  kept ;  for  whether  here 
or  in  New  York,  as  his  reputation  grew,  when  that  lordly  mam 
moth  of  the  press,  *  The  Tribune,'  overgrown  in  its  independ 
ence  and  strength,  would  not  condescend  to  record  a  word  that 
Mr.  Garrison  or  I  could  utter,  but  bent  low  before  the  most 
thorough  scholarship  of  New  England,  and  was  glad  to  win  its 
way  to  the  confidence  of  the  West  by  being  his  mouthpiece,  — 
with  that  weapon  of  influence  in  his  right  hand,  he  always 
placed  himself  at  our  side,  and  in  the  midst  of  us,  in  the  capital 
State  of  the  empire. 

"  You  may  not  think  this  great  praise :  we  do.  Other  men 
have  brought  us  brave  hearts  ;  other  men  have  brought  us  keen- 
sighted  and  vigilant  intellects :  but  he  brought  us,  as  no  one 
else  could,  the  loftiest  stature  of  New-England  culture.  He 
brought  us  a  disciplined  intellect,  whose  statement  was  evidence, 
and  whose  affirmation  the  most  gifted  student  took  long  time 
before  he  ventured  to  doubt  or  to  contradict.  When  we  had 
nothing  but  our  characters,  nothing  but  our  reputation  for  accu 
racy,  for  our  weapons,  the  man  who  could  give  to  the  cause  of 
the  slave  that  weapon  was  indeed  one  of  its  ablest  and  foremost 
champions. 

"  Lord  Bacon  said  in  his  will,  '  I  leave  my  name  and  memory 
to  foreign  lands,  and  to  my  own  countrymen  after  some  time  be 
passed?  No  more  fitting  words  could  be  chosen,  if  the  modesty 
of  the  friend  who  has  just  gone  before  us  would  have  permitted 
him  to  adopt  them  for  himself.  To-day,  even  within  twenty- 
four  hours,  I  have  seen  symptoms  of  that  repentance  which 
Johnson  describes  :  — 

'  When  nations,  slowly  wise  and  meanly  just, 
To  buried  merit  raise  the  tardy  bust.' 


540  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  The  men  who  held  their  garments  aside,  and  desired  to 
have  no  contact  with  Music  Hall,  are  beginning  to  show  symp 
toms  that  they  will  be  glad,  when  the  world  doubts  whether  they 
have  any  life  left,  to  say,  '  Did  not  Theodore  Parker  spring 
from  our  bosom  ? '  Yes,  he  takes  his  place,  his  serene  place, 
among  those  few  to  whom  Americans  point  as  a  proof  that  the 
national  heart  is  still  healthy  and  alive.  Most  of  our  statesmen, 
most  of  our  politicians,  go  down  into  their  graves,  and  we  cover 
them  up  with  apologies  :  we  walk  with  reverent  and  filial  love 
backward,  and  throw  the  mantle  over  their  defects,  and  say, 
1  Remember  the  temptation  and  the  time  ! '  Now  and  then 
one,  now  and  then  one,  goes  up  silently,  and  yet  not  unan 
nounced,  like  the  stars  at  their  coming,  and  takes  his  place ; 
while  all  eyes  follow  him,  and  say,  *  Thank  God!  It  is  the 
promise  and  the  herald  :  it  is  the  nation  alive  at  its  heart.  God 
has  not  left  us  without  a  witness  ;  for  his  children  have  been 
among  us,  and  one-half  have  known  them  by  love,  and  one-half 
have  known  them  by  hate,  —  equal  attestations  to  the  divine  life 
that  has  passed  through  our  streets.'  " 

Mr.  Garrison  spoke  with  little  premeditation,  but  in 
substance  thus :  He  referred  to  the  mental  independence 
and  moral  courage  which  characterized  Mr.  Parker  in  re 
spect  to  all  his  convictions  and  acts.  He  was  not  tech 
nically  "  a  Garrisonian  abolitionist,"  though  often  upon 
that  platform,  but  voted  with  the  Republican  party,  though 
faithfully  rebuking  it  for  its  timidity  and  growing  spirit  of 
compromise.  He  was  no  man's  man,  and  no  man's  fol 
lower,  but  acted  for  himself,  bravely,  conscientiously,  and 
according  to  his  best  judgment. 

But  what  of  his  theology  ?  Mr.  Garrison  did  not  know 
that  he  could  state  the  whole  of  Mr.  Parker's  creed ;  but 
he  remembered  a  part  of  it :  "  There  is  one  God  and 
Father  over  all,  absolute  and  immutable,  whose  love  is 
infinite,  and  therefore  inexhaustible,  and  whose  tender 
mercies  are  over  all  the  works  of  his  hand ;  and,  whether 
in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body,  the  farthest  wanderer  from 
the  fold  might  yet  have  hope."  He  believed  in  the  con- 


TRIBUTES. 


541 


tinual  progress  and  final  redemption  of  the  human  race ; 
that  every  child  of  God,  however  erring,  would  ultimately 
be  brought  back.  "  You  may  quarrel  with  that  theology," 
said  Mr.  Garrison,  "if  you  please  :  I  shall  not.  I  like  it ; 
I  have  great  faith  in  it ;  I  accept  it.  But  this  I  say  in 
respect  to  mere  abstract  theological  opinions,  —  the  longer 
I  live,  the  less  do  I  care  about  them,  the  less  do  I  make 
them  a  test  of  character.  It  is  nothing  to  me  that  any 
man  calls  himself  a  Methodist,  or  Baptist,  or  Unitarian, 
or  Universalist.  These  sectarian  shibboleths  are  easily 
taken  upon  the  lip,  especially  when  the  '  offence  of  the 
cross  '  has  ceased.  Whoever  will,  with  his  theology,  grind 
out  the  best  grist  for  our  common  humanity,  is  the  best 
theologian  for  me. 

"  Many  years  ago,  Thomas  Jefferson  uttered  a  senti 
ment  which  shocked  our  eminently  Christian  country  as 
being  thoroughly  infidel.  '  I  do  not  care,'  said  he, 
'  whether  my  neighbor  believes  in  one  God  or  in  twenty 
gods,  if  he  does  not  pick  my  pocket ;  '  thus  going  to 
the  root  of  absolute  justice  and  morality,  and  obviously 
meaning  this :  If  a  man  pick  my  pocket,  it  is  in  vain  he 
tells  me,  in  palliation  of  his  crime,  '  I  am  a  believer  in 
one  true  and  living  God.'  —  '  That  may  be  ;  but  you  are  a 
pickpocket  nevertheless.'  Or  he  may  say,  '  I  have  not 
only  one  God,  but  twenty  gods  :  therefore  I  am  not 
guilty.'  —  '  Nay,  but  you  are  a  thief ! '  And  so  we  always 
throw  ourselves  back  upon  character ;  upon  the  fact 
whether  a  man  is  honest,  just,  long-suffering,  merciful ; 
and  not  whether  he  believes  in  a  denominational  creed,  or 
is  a  strict  observer  of  rites  and  ceremonies.  This  was  the 
religion  of  Theodore  Parker,  always  exciting  his  marvel 
lous  powers  to  promote  the  common  good,  to  bless  those 
who  needed  a  blessing,  and  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost, 
to  bear  testimony  in  favor  of  the  right  in  the  face  of  an 
ungodly  age,  and  against  '  a  frowning  world.'  " 

Mr.  Garrison  said  they  were  there  to  honor  his  memory. 
46 


542  THEODORE  PARKER. 

How  could  they  best  show  their  estimation  of  him  ?  By 
trying  to  be  like  him  in  nobility  of  soul,  in  moral  heroism, 
in  fidelity  to  the  truth,  in  disinterested  regard  for  the  wel 
fare  of  others. 

"  Mr.  Parker,  though  strong  in  his  convictions,  was  no 
dogmatist,  and  assumed  no  robes  of  infallibility.  No  man 
was  more  docile  in  regard  to  being  taught,  even  by  the 
lowliest.  Mr.  Phillips  had  done  him  no  more  than  justice 
when  he  said  that  he  was  willing  and  eager  to  obtair  in 
struction  from  any  quarter.  Hence  he  was  always  inquir 
ing  of  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  so  that  he 
might  learn,  if  possible,  something  from  them  that  might 
aid  him  in  the  great  work  in  which  he  was  engaged. 

"When  the  question  of  woman's  rights  first  came  up 
for  discussion,  like  multitudes  of  others,  Mr.  Parker  was 
inclined  to  treat  it  facetiously,  and  supposed  it  could  be 
put  aside  with  a  smile.  Still  it  was  his  disposition  to  hear 
and  to  learn ;  and  as  soon  as  he  began  to  investigate,  and 
to  see  the  grandeur  and  world-wide  importance  of  the 
woman's-rights  movement,  he  gave  to  it  his  hearty  sup 
port  before  the  country  and  the  world. 

"  How  he  will  be  missed  by  those  noble  but  unfortunate 
exiles  who  come  to  Boston  from  the  Old  World  from  time 
to  time,  driven  out  by  the  edicts  of  European  despotism  ! 
What  a  home  was  Theodore  Parker's  for  them  !  How 
they  loved  to  gather  round  him  in  that  home  !  and  what  a 
sympathizing  friend,  and  trusty  adviser,  and  generous 
assistant,  in  their  times  of  sore  distress,  they  have  found  in 
him  !  There  are  many  such  in  Boston  and  in  various  parts 
of  our  country,  who  have  fled  from  foreign  oppression,  who 
will  hear  of  his  death  with  great  sorrow  of  heart,  and 
drop  grateful  tears  to  his  memory." 

Next  came  James  Freeman  Clarke,  most  loyal  and 
generous  of  friends,  whose  theological  differences  left  no 
trace  on  his  moral  or  personal  affection  :  — 


TRIBUTES.  543 

"  I  remember  meeting  him  on  the  cars  on  that  fatal  winter 
which  laid  the  foundation  of  the  disease  which  took  him  away. 
He  had  a  carpet-bag  with  him,  filled  with  German,  Greek,  and 
Latin  books,  —  those  old  books  in  vellum  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  —  volumes  which  it  is  a  pain  merely  to  look  at,  so  hard 
reading  do  they  seem  to  be.  On  Monday  morning  he  filled  his 
catpet-bag,  and  went  to  the  place  where  he  was  to  lecture  Mon 
day  night :  all  day  long  he  studied  his  books,  and  at  night 
delivered  his  lecture.  Then  on  Tuesday  he  would  go  to  the 
next  place  ;  studying  his  books  all  day,  and  lecturing  at  night. 
So  he  would  go  on  through  the  week  until  Friday ;  when  he 
would  be  back  again  to  Boston,  with  his  carpet-bag  exhausted, 
with  every  one  of  those  books  gutted  of  its  contents,  with  the 
whole  substance  of  them  in  his  brain  ;  so  that  he  knew  all  about 
every  one  of  them,  and  could  give  a  perfect  analysis  of  them 
all  from  beginning  to  end.  On  Saturday  morning  he  would  sit 
down  to  write  his  sermon  for  the  next  day  ;  on  Saturday  after 
noon  go  and  visit  the  sick  and  bereaved  of  his  society ;  on 
Sunday  morning  preach  his  sermon,  and  in  the  afternoon  drive 
out  to  Watertown  and  preach  there  ;  and  on  Sunday  evening  he 
would  lie  on  the  sofa,  and  talk  to  his  friends.  That  was  his  way 
of  working.  I  got  a  letter  only  yesterday  from  William  H. 
Channing,  an  old  friend  of  his,  who,  speaking  in  the  most  tender 
and  affectionate  terms  of  his  departure,  said  that  he  had,  by 
over-working  the  intellectual  part  of  his  faculties,  by  too  great 
fidelity  in  study,  killed  out,  to  some  extent,  another  masterly 
faculty,  which  he  had  observed,  but  of  which  those  who  did  not 
know  him  might  be  ignorant ;  namely,  his  gorgeous  imagination. 
Mr.  Channing  said  that  he  was  a  man  who  had,  with  all  his  logi 
cal  power,  with  all  those  reflective  faculties,  with  all  those  im 
mense  powers  of  grasp  and  reception,  —  the  powers  by  which 
he  held  on  to  and  retained  what  he  had  learned,  and  the  powers 
by  which  he  brought  them  into  one  great  system  in  order  to 
set  them  before  men, — with  all  this  he  had  the  imagination  of  a 
poet,  but  did  not  let  it  work,  he  was  so  busy  studying  all  the 
time. 

"  Now,  there  were  other  students  along  with  him  when 
he  was  a  boy :  and  I  have  known  a  great  many  students  ;  but 
their  way  of  studying  was  very  different  from  his.  When 
Parker  studied,  it  was  not  merely  with  the  concentration  of  cer- 


544  THEODORE  PARKER. 

tain  faculties,  for  the  sake  of  working  out  a  certain  problem, 
and  there  an  end  of  it ;  or  merely  to  gather  together  certain 
things,  and  put  them  into  his  brain,  and  there  an  end  of  it.  No : 
he  had  a  great  idea  before  him  all  the  time  ;  and  his  study  was 
always  instinct  with  the  life  of  that  idea  ;  and  every  word  he 
uttered  was  a  living  word ;  and  all  the  thoughts  that  came  from 
him  came  from  him  as  fresh,  glowing  thoughts,  full  of  love  to 
God  and  love  to  man. 

"  Now  with  regard  to  the  second  thing  which  goes  to  make  a 
man  great.  What  was  Parker's  way  of  action  ?  It  was  a  grand 
way  of  action.  His  activity  was  as  large,  determined,  persist 
ent,  complete,  and  thorough  as  his  intellectual  working  was. 
What  he  did  was  on  a  plan  reaching  through  years,  on  a  plan 
arranged  when  he  was  a  boy,  —  the  whole  of  his  life  mapped  out 
before  him,  with  all  he  meant  to  do  each  year  previously  ar 
ranged,  and  the  reason  for  it  fixed  in  his  own  mind  :  and  then 
he  went  to  his  work,  and  did  it ;  lived  to  accomplish  it.  But 
what  sort  of  work  was  it  ?  Greatness  in  work  considers  the 
quality  of  the  work  as  well  as  the  amount  and  method  of  accom 
plishing  it.  What  was  the  quality  of  his  work  ?  It  was  simply 
this  :  it  was  to  lift  man  toward  God.  That  was  the  work  which 
Parker  gave  himself  to  do  in  the  world  ;  that  was  the  work  for 
which  he  gathered  together  all  this  knowledge ;  that  the  work 
for  which  he  so  trained  his  intellect  to  be  acute,  persistent,  and 
comprehensive.  It  was  to  raise  men  to  God.  With  his  eye  on 
God,  he  turned  to  man  to  lift  him  up  ;  and  wherever  he  found 
a  man  who  needed  to  be  raised,  or  a  class,  a  race,  or  a  nation, 
that  needed  to  be  lifted  up,  there  he  felt  his  work  to  be.  On 
that  point  I  say  no  more,  because  it  is  the  least  necessary  to 
speak  of  his  work  ;  since  that  is  patent,  and  known  to  all. 

"  But  there  is  one  other  element  of  greatness  in  man.  Besides 
the  head  and  the  hand,  there  is  the  heart.  What  was  the  great 
ness  of  heart  in  Theodore  Parker  ?  His  habit  was,  in  speaking 
of  the  Almighty,  not  to  call  him  the  Almighty.  He  spoke  of 
the  '  Absolute  Father '  in  his  philosophy  and  in  his  theology  ; 
but  when  he  came  to  speak  of  him  from  the  pulpit,  as  a  Chris 
tian  man  speaking  to  Christian  men,  as  a  brother  talking  to 
brethren  and  sisters  of  what  they  needed,  it  was  '  Father  '  and 
1  Mother,'  —  « the  great  Father  and  Mother  of  us  all.'  The  ten 
der,  feminine  heart  of  Theodore  Parker  was  not  satisfied  with 


TRIBUTES.  545 

the  name  of  '  Father '  unless  he  united  with  it  that  of  '  Mother.' 
So  tender  was  he,  so  affectionate  was  he,  that  no  one  was  ever 
near  to  Parker  as  a  friend,  as  an  intimate  companion,  without 
wondering  how  it  was  that  men  could  ever  think  of  him  as  hard, 
stern,  severe,  cold,  and  domineering,  because,  in  all  the  private 
relations  of  life,  he  was  docile  as  a  child  to  the  touch  of  love  ; 
and  it  was  only  necessary,  if  you  had  any  fault  to  find  with  any 
thing  that  he  had  said  or  done,  to  go  to  him,  and  tell  him  just 
what  your  complaint  was,  or  what  your  difficulty  was,  and  just 
as  likely  as  not  he  would  at  once  admit,  if  there  was  the  least 
reason  in  the  complaint,  that  he  was  wrong.  He  was  as  ready 
to  admit  himself  in  the  wrong  as  to  maintain  his  stand  for  the 
everlasting  right. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  describe — with  what  figure  borrowed 
from  nature  or  art  or  history  to  describe  —  how  Parker  seems 
to  me  in  all  this  varied  and  accumulated  greatness  of  mind, 
of  heart,  and  of  hand,  better  than  by  telling  you  the  incidents  of 
one  day  of  my  life.  When  I  was  passing  out  of  Italy  once  by 
the  St.  Gothard  route,  we  were  in  Italy  in  the  morning,  on  the 
Italian  side  of  the  mountains,  surrounded  by  Italian  voices  and 
by  the  music  of  Italian  nightingales,  and  within  sight  of  the 
opening  vineyards.  Then  we  began  the  ascent  of  the  moun 
tain  ;  and,  as  we  ascended,  we  passed  through  the  valley  of  pines, 
until  at  last,  on  that  I5th  of  May,  we  came  to  the  snow.  Then 
we  took  the  little  sleds,  and  went  on  upon  the  snow,  higher  and 
higher,  until  we  were  surrounded  with  great  fields  of  snow,  daz 
zling  white  in  the  sun  ;  and  on'  one  side  we  saw  the  fall  of  a 
terrible  avalanche,  with  its  roar  of  thunder.  So  we  passed  on 
until  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain  ;  and  then,  descend 
ing  on  the  other  side,  we  came  at  last  to  where  again  the  snow 
ceased ;  and,  there  taking  the  diligence,  we  went  on  our  way 
down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  through  gorges  and  ravines, 
and  glaciers  even,  the  country  around  growing  more  and  more 
green,  changing  from  spring  to  summer,  until  at  last,  when  we 
came  down  toward  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  we  passed  through 
orchards  full  of  apple-blossoms,  and  finally  crossed  the  beauti 
ful  lake  to  the  town  of  Lucerne,  there  to  receive  a  whole  bundle 
of  letters  from  home — from  father,  mother,  brother,  sister,  and 
child  —  to  end  the  day.  When  I  think  of  that  day's  journey,  — 
beginning  in  Italy,  and  ending  in  Germany  ;  beginning  under  an 
46* 


546  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Italian  sun,  at  mid-day  surrounded  by  snow-fields  and  glaciers, 
and  at  its  close  amid  the  apple-blossoms  of  Germany, — it  seems 
to  me  that  that  varied  and  wonderful  day  is  a  sort  of  type  of  the 
life  of  our  friend  Theodore  Parker  ;  its  youth  Italian,  all  fresh 
and  gushing  with  ten  thousand  springs  of  early,  boyish  life,  and 
hope  and  animation,  and  with  all  the  varied  study  and  activity  of 
the  child  and  youth  ;  its  early  morning  passed  in  the  stern  work 
of  climbing  up  the  mountain-side  ;  its  mid-day  with  God's  ever 
lasting  sun  over  his  head,  and  the  great,  broad  fields  all  around, 
over  which  his  eye  looked  ;  and,  all  through  its  afternoon-hours, 
passing  on  into  an  ever-increasing  affluence  of  spring  and  sum 
mer,  and  ending  at  last  in  the  sweet  bosom  of  affection,  grati 
tude,  and  love." 

At  the  close  of  the  regular  services  at  the  Music  Hall 
on  the  3d  of  June, — on  which  occasion  an  appreciative  dis 
course  on  the  character  of  Mr.  Parker  was  delivered  by  his 
friend  Samuel  J.  May,  — a  meeting  of  the  society  was  held 
to  express  their  sense  of  the  loss  sustained  in  their  min 
ister's  death.  Mr.  Charles  W.  Slack,  chairman  of  the 
standing  committee,  called  the  meeting  to  order ;  and  Mr. 
Frank  B.  Sanborn  presented  the  fitting  resolutions,  which, 
touching  as  they  were,  failed  to  convey  all  there  was  in  his 
friends'  thoughts  or  his  own.  Two  days  earlier,  on  June  i, 
the  Fraternity  —  an  organization  composed  of  members 
of  the  society  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  in  all  suitable 
ways  the  minister  and  standing  committee  —  had  met,  and 
adopted  resolutions  in  behalf  of  its  own  members. 

On  Sunday,  June  17,  exercises  in  commemoration  of 
the  death  of  Theodore  Parker  were  held  by  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Congregational  Society  in  the  Music  Hall.  The 
immense  audience,  many  standing,  remained  patient  and 
attentive  through  proceedings  which  lasted  upwards  of 
two  hours.  The  stand  at  which  he  had  so  long  preached 
was  covered  with  flowers.  A  cross  of  white  roses  and 
evergreen  hung  in  front;  wreaths  of  variegated  flowers, 
the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  of  the  season,  were  on  eithei 


TRIBUTES.  547 

side  ;  on  the  top  stood  vases  with  large  bouquets.  Lilies 
of  the  valley,  Mr.  Parker's  favorite,  lay  beside  the  Bible. 
The  services  consisted  of  prayer,  the  reading  of  expres 
sive  passages  from  Scripture,  the  singing  of  hymns  which 
the  minister  loved  to  read,  — one  of  them  his  own  selec 
tion  for  this  very  occasion,  —  and  addresses  by  Charles 
M.  Ellis,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  and  Wendell  Phillips,  — 
three  men  who  knew  him  well,  had  the  discernment  to 
understand  him,  and  the  tongues  to  say  what  they  had  to 
say  with  as  much  truth  as  eloquence.  A  portion  of  their 
words,  the  portion  that  is  most  interesting  now,  is  given. 

Mr.  Ellis  spoke  first,  he  being  most  intimately  associated 
with  Mr.  Parker  as  a  parishioner  and  personal  friend. 
His  voice  was  the  voice  of  the  society :  — 

"  The  resolve  '  that  Theodore  Parker  should  have  a  chance 
to  be  heard '  was  more  than  the  word  of  a  friend,  or  a  protest 
for  religious  freedom,  or  a  plan  for  a  free  church.  Before  the 
South-Boston  sermon,  it  was  known  who  and  what  was  coming 
in  this  young  preacher,  who  had  said,  l  God  still  lives  ;  man 
has  lost  none  of  his  high  nature : '  and  in  his  parable'  of  Paul, 
'  I  shall  walk  by  God's  light,  and  fear  not.'  It  was  thought 
that  the  new  truth  would  be  spread  by  his  voice  ;  perhaps  not 
dreamed  that  one  man  could  spread  it  so  widely.  But  that  sim 
ple  resolve,  the  seed  of  this  society,  was  dropped  in  faith  that 
that  truth  would  prevail ;  the  mover  of  it  having  a  year  or  two 
before,  in  a  little  book  now  forgotten,  shown  how  it  was  the 
4  basis  of  all  true  art,  criticism,  society,  morals,  laws,  and 
religion.'  But  of  this  society  :  — 

"  First,  We  may  be  content  to  leave  almost  all  —  as  to  what 
he  undid,  that  is  matter  of  discussion  at  this  day,  whilst  parti 
sans  define  their  positions,  priests  their  creeds  —  with  a  word 
which  covers  it  all,  v era  pro  gratis.  If  truth  be  started,  let  old 
errors  go. 

"  Next  let  us  look  to  what  he  created  and  did.  He  ascended 
to  the  sublime  heights  of  philosophy  and  religion ;  by  thought 
and  study  made  clear  to  the  intellect  the  truth  that  fired  his 
soul,  —  that  '  God  is  infinite  perfection,  power,  wisdom,  justice, 


548  THEODORE  PARKER. 

love,'  —  and  plainly  showed  it  to  the  world.  He  saw  and  showed 
how,  historically  and  by  nature,  man  grows  in  the  light  of  love, 
and  has  his  eyes  opened  to  spiritual  truth,  as  flowers  beneath 
the  sun.  He  took  truth  from  books  and  scholars,  religion  from 
temples  and  the  priests,  and  showed  them  to  common  men. 

"  His  basis  was  man's  intuition  of  God,  and  direct  perception 
of  his  laws.  We  see  that  the  old  theologies  were  most  dis 
turbed  by  his  ideas,  as  slavery  was,  of  all  institutions,  most 
shaken  by  his  labors.  Probably  time  will  show  that  the  most 
positive  and  complete  of  his  intellectual  works  was  his  spiritual 
theology. 

"  Calmly,  and  at  length,  alas  !  with  labor  too  great  for  that  fail 
ing  frame,  thinking  death  near,  —  as  he  said,  '  up  to  his  shoul 
ders  in  his  grave,'  —  he  reviewed  that  work.  He  wished  to  live  to 
round  it  off,  hoping  for  the  length  of  years  and  strength  of  his 
ancestors,  but  ready  to  pass  the  golden  gates  to  immortal  life. 
His  work  is  fragmentary  in  relation  to  his  idea,  though  so  much 
is  in  itself  complete.  He  tells  us,  that,  after  his  discourse 
of  '  Matters  pertaining  to  Religion,'  he  formed  a  plan,  and  pre 
pared  for  the  afternoon  and  evening  of  his  days,  to  show  the 
'History  of  the  Progressive  Development  of  Religion  among 
the  Leading  Races  of  Mankind.' 

"  What  a  few  in  the  grove  of  the  academies,  by  the  lamp  of 
philosophy,  in  moments  of  vision,  had  seen,  had  become  so 
clear  to  him,  that  he  would  not  only  make  it  plain,  and  prove  it  to 
the  reason  of  men,  but  would  traverse  the  history  of  the  world, 
and  show  its  growth  ;  show  how,  by  either  method,  analysis,  or 
synthesis,  this  one  truth  was  the  culmination  of  human  thought. 
Well  may  we  leave  theologies,  christologies,  creeds,  statutes, 
societies,  governments,  to  take  care  of  themselves. 

"  Success  !  For  fifteen  years  a  free  church  ;  this  truth  em 
bodied  in  labors  for  the  dangerous,  perishing,  criminal  classes, 
for  education,  woman,  temperance,  freedom,  peace  ;  its  light 
thrown  on  the  lives  of  our  great  men  and  heroes  ;  put  in  vol- 
urres  that  will  live  with  the  English  tongue  ;  put  into  labors  that 
now  move  and  will  move  the  American  Church  and  State  whilst 
they  endure  ;  set  forth  in  a  system  of  religion,  a  positive  spirit 
ual  theology,  a  method  of  spiritual  culture  ;  shadowing  a  scheme 
of  ethics  ;  containing  almost  the  only  fit  attempt  to  state  the 
law  of  nature,  the  law  of  laws,  in  the  language  ;  his  thought,  his 
labor,  his  life,  — these  are  success  and  triumph  enough." 


TRIBUTES.  549 

Mr.  Emerson  followed  :  — 

"  He  whose  voice  will  not  be  heard  here  again  could  well 
afford  to  tell  his  experiences  :  they  were  all  honorable  to  him, 
and  were  part  of  the  history  of  the  civil  and  religious  liberty  of 
his  times.  Theodore  Parker  was  a  son  of  the  soil,  charged  with 
the  energy  of  New  England  ;  strong,  eager,  inquisitive  of  knowl 
edge  ;  of  a  diligence  that  never  tired ;  upright ;  of  a  haughty 
independence,  yet  the  gentlest  of  companions  ;  a  man  of  study, 
fit  for  a  man  of  the  world  ;  with  decided  opinions,  and  plenty  of 
power  to  state  them ;  rapidly  pushing  his  studies  so  far  as  to 
leave  few  men  qualified  to  sit  as  his  critics.  He  elected  his  post 
of  duty,  or  accepted  nobly  that  assigned  him  in  his  rare  consti 
tution, —  wonderful  acquisition  of  knowledge;  a  rapid  wit  that 
heard  all,  and  welcomed  all  that  came,  by  seeing  its  bearing. 
Such  was  the  largeness  of  his  reception  of  facts,  and  his  skill  to 
employ  them,  that  it  looked  as  if  he  were  some  president  of 
council  to  whom  a  score  of  telegraphs  were  ever  bringing  in 
reports  ;  and  his  information  would  have  been  excessive  but  for 
the  noble  use  he  made  of  it,  ever  in  the  interest  of  humanity. 
He  had  a  strong  understanding,  a  logical  method,  a  love  for 
facts,  a  rapid  eye  for  their  historic  relations,  and  a  skill  in  strip 
ping  them  of  traditional  lustres.  He  had  a  sprightly  fancy,  and 
often  amused  himself  with  throwing  his  meaning  into  pretty 
apologues  ;  yet  we  can  hardly  ascribe  to  his  mind  the  poetic 
element,  though  his  scholarship  had  made  him  a  reader  and 
quoter  of  verses.  A  little  more  feeling  of  the  poetic  signifi 
cance  of  his  facts  would  have  disqualified  him  for  some  of  his 
severer  offices  to  his  generation.  The  old  religions  have  a 
charm  for  most  minds,  which  it  is  a  little  uncanny  to  disturb. 
It  is  sometimes  a  question,  shall  we  not  leave  them  to  decay 
without  rude  shocks  ?  I  remember  that  I  found  some  harsh 
ness  in  his  treatment  both  of  Greek  and  Hebrew  antiquity,  and 
sympathized  with  the  pain  of  many  good  people  in  his  auditory, 
whilst  I  acquitted  him,  of  course,  of  any  wish  to  be  flippant. 

"  He  came  at  a  time,  when,  to  the  irresistible  march  of  opinion, 
the  forms  still  retained  by  the  most  advanced  sects  showed 
loose  and  lifeless  ;  and  he,  with  something  less  of  affectionate 
attachment  to  the  old,  or  with  more  vigorous  logic,  rejected 
them.  It  is  objected  to  him  that  he  scattered  too  many  illu- 


550  THEODORE  PARKER. 

sions.  Perhaps  more  tenderness  would  have  been  graceful ; 
but  it  is  vain  to  charge  him  with  perverting  the  opinions  of  the 
new  generation.  The  opinions  of  men  are  organic.  Simply 
those  came  to  him  who  found  themselves  expressed  by  him  ; 
and  had  they  not  met  this  enlightened  mind,  in  which  they 
beheld  their  own  opinions  combined  with  zeal  in  every  cause 
of  love  and  humanity,  they  would  have  suspected  their  own 
opinions,  and  suppressed  them,  and  so  sunk  into  melancholy 
or  malignity,  a  feeling  of  loneliness  and  hostility  to  what  was 
reckoned  respectable.  It  is  plain  to  me  that  he  has  achieved 
an  historic  immortality  here  ;  that  he  has  so  woven  himself  in 
these  few  years  into  the  history  of  Boston,  that  he  can  never 
be  left  out  of  your  annals.  It  will  not  be  in  the  acts  of  city 
councils,  nor  of  obsequious  mayors,  nor  in  the  State  House, 
the  proclamations  of  governors,  with  their  failing  virtue,  — 
failing  them  at  critical  moments,  —  that  the  coming  generations 
will  study  what  really  befell ;  but  in  the  plain  lessons  of  Theo 
dore  Parker  in  this  Music  Hall,  in  Faneuil  Hall,  or  in  legisla 
tive  committee-rooms,  the  true  temper  and  authentic  record 
of  these  days  will  be  read.  The  next  generation  will  care  little 
for  tho  chances  of  elections  that  govern  governors  now ;  it 
will  care  little  for  fine  gentlemen  who  behaved  shabbily  :  but  it 
will  read  very  intelligently  in  his  rough  story,  fortified  with 
exact  anecdotes,  precise  with  names  and  dates,  what  part  was 
taken  by  each  actor ;  who  threw  himself  into  the  cause  of  hu 
manity  ;  who  came  to  the  rescue  of  civilization  at  a  hard  pinch, 
and  who  blocked  its  course. 

"  The  vice  charged  against  America  is  the  want  of  sincerity 
in  leading  men.  It  does  not  lie  at  his  door.  He  never  kept 
back  the  truth  for  fear  to  make  an  enemy.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  was  complained  that  he  was  bitter  and  harsh  ;  that  his 
zeal  burned  with  too  hot  a  flame.  It  is  so  difficult,  in  evil  times, 
to  escape  this  charge!  —  for  the  faithful  preacher  most  of  all. 
It  was  his  merit,  like  Luther,  Knox,  Latimer,  and  John 
Baptist,  to  speak  tart  truth  when  that  was  peremptory,  and 
when  there  were  few  to  say  it.  But  his  sympathy  with  good 
ness  was  not  less  energetic.  One  fault  he  had:  he  overesti 
mated  his  friends,  I  'may  well  say  it,  and  sometimes  vexed  them 
with  the  importunity  of  his  good  opinion,  whilst  they  knew 
better  the  ebb  which  follows  exaggerated  praise.  He  was 


TRIBUTES.  551 

capable,  it  must  be  said,  of  the  most  unmeasured  eulogies  on 
those  he  esteemed,  especially  if  he  had  any  jealousy  that  they 
did  not  stand  with  the  Boston  public  as  highly  as  they  ought. 
His  commanding  merit  as  a  reformer  is  this,  that  he  insisted  be 
yond  all  men  in  pulpits  —  I  cannot  think  of  one  rival  —  that 
the  essence  of  Christianity  is  its  practical  morals :  it  is  there 
for  use,  or  it  is  nothing  ;  and  if  you  combine  it  with  sharp 
trading,  or  with  ordinary  city  ambitions  to  gloss  over  municipal 
corruptions,  or  private  intemperance,  or  successful  fraud,  or 
immoral  politics,  or  unjust  wars,  or  the  cheating  of  Indians,  or 
the  robbery  of  frontier  nations,  or  leaving  your  principles  at 
home  to  show  on  the  high  seas  or  in  Europe  a  supple  com 
plaisance  to  tyrants,  it  is  an  hypocrisy,  and  the  truth  is  not-  in 
you  ;  and  no  love  of  religious  music,  or  of  dreams  of  Sweden- 
borg,  or  praise  of  John  Wesley  or  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  can  save 
you  from  the  satan  which  you  are. 

"  His  ministry  fell  on  a  political  crisis  also  ;  on  the  years 
when  Southern  slavery  broke  over  its  old  banks,  made  new  and 
vast  pretensions,  and  wrung  from  the  weakness  or  treachery  of 
Northern  people  fatal  concessions  in  the  Fugitive-slave  Bill  and 
the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise.  Two  days,  bitter  in  the 
memory  of  Boston,  —  the  days  of  the  rendition  of  Sims  and  of 
Burns,  —  made  the  occasion  of  his  most  remarkable  discourses. 
He  kept  nothing  back.  In  terrible  earnest  he  denounced  the 
public  crime,  and  meted  out  to  every  official,  high  and  low,  his 
due  portion.  By  the 'incessant  power  of  his  statement,  he 
made  and  held  a  party.  -  It  was  his  great  service  to  freedom. 
He  took  away  the  reproach  of  silent  consent  that  would  other 
wise  have  lain  against  the  indignant  minority,  by  uttering  in  the 
hour  and  place  wherein  these  outrages  were  done  the  stern  pro 
test.  There  were,  of  course,  multitudes  to  censure  and  defame 
this  truth-speaker.  But  the  brave  know  the  brave.  Fops, 
whether  in  drawing-rooms  or  churches,  will  utter  the  fop's 
opinion,  and  faintly  hope  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul :  but  his 
manly  enemies,  who  despised  the  fops,  honored  him  ;  and  it  is 
well  known  that  his  great  hospitable  heart  was  the  sanctuary  to 
which  every  soul  conscious  of  an  earnest  opinion  came  for 
sympathy,  —  alike  the  brave  slaveholder  and  the  brave  slave- 
rescuer.  These  met  in  the  house  of  this  honest  man  ;  for 
every  sound  heart  loves  a  responsible  person,  —  one  who  does 


552  THEODORE  PARKER. 

not  in  generous  company  say  generous  things,  and  in  mean 
company  base  things,  but  says  one  thing,  now  cheerfully,  now 
indignantly,  but  always  because  he  must,  and  because  he  sees 
that  whether  he  speak,  or  refrain  from  speech,  this  is  said  over 
him,  and  history,  nature,  and  all  souls  testify  to  the  same. 

"  Ah,  my  brave  brother !  it  seems  as  if,  in  a  frivolous  age,  our 
loss  were  immense,  and  your  place  cannot  be  supplied.  But  you 
will  already  be  consoled  in  the  transfer  of  your  genius,  know 
ing  well  that  the  nature  of  the  world  will  affirm  to  all  men,  in  all 
times,  that  which  for  twenty-five  years  you  valiantly  spoke  ; 
that  the  winds  of  Italy  murmur  the  same  truth  over  your  grave, 
the  winds  of  America  over  these  bereaved  streets  ;  that  the 
sea  which  bore  your  mourners  home  affirms  it,  the  stars  in 
their  courses,  and  the  inspirations  of  youth  ;  whilst  the  polished 
and  pleasant  traitors  to  human  rights,  with  perverted  learning 
and  disgraced  graces,  rot  and  are  forgotten  with  their  double 
tongue,  saying  all  that  is  sordid  for  the  corruption  of  man." 

Wendell  Phillips  then  laid  another  manly  tribute  on 
the  grave  of  his  friend  :  — 

"  There  is  one  thing  every  man  may  say  of  this  pulpit :  it 
was  a  live  reality,  and  no  sham.  Whether  tearing  theological 
idols  to  pieces  at  West  Roxbury,  or  here  battling  with  the 
every-day  evils  of  the  streets,  it  was  ever  a  live  voice,  and  no 
mechanical  or  parrot-tune ;  ever  fresh  from  the  heart  of  God, 
as  these  flowers,  these  lilies,  —  the  last  flower  over  which,  when 
eyesight  failed  him,  with  his  old  gesture  he  passed  his  loving 
hand,  and  said,  '  How  sweet ! '  As  in  that  story  he  loved  so 
much  to  tell  of  Michael  Angelo,  when  in  the  Roman  palace 
Raphael  was  drawing  his  figures  too  small,  Angelo  sketched  a 
colossal  head  of  fit  proportions,  and  taught  Raphael  his  fault ; 
so  Parker  criticised  these  other  pulpits,  not  so  much  by  censure 
as  by  creation ;  by  a  pulpit  proportioned  to  the  hour,  broad  as 
humanity,  frank  as  truth,  stern  as  justice,  and  loving  as  Christ. 
Here  is  the  place  to  judge  him.  In  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  the 
epitaph  says,  if  you  would  know  the  genius  of  Christopher 
Wren,  'look  around.'  Do  you  ask  proof  how  full  were  the 
hands,  how  large  the  heart,  how  many-sided  the  brain,  of  your 
teacher  :  listen,  and  you  will  hear  it  in  the  glad,  triumphant  cer- 


TRIBUTES.  553 

tainty  of  your  enemies,  that  you  must  close  these  doors,  since 
his  place  can  never  be  filled.  Do  you  ask  proof  of  his  efficient 
labor,  and  the  good  soil  into  which  that  seed  fell :  gladden  your 
eyes  by  looking  back,  and  seeing  for  how  many  months  the 
impulse  his  vigorous  hand  gave  you  has  sufficed,  spite  of  boding 
prophecy,  to  keep  these  doors  open.  Yes,  he  has  left  those 
accustomed  to  use  weapons,  and  not  merely  to  hold  up  his 
hands.  And  not  only  among  yourselves :  from  another  city  I 
received  a  letter,  full  of  deep  feeling  ;  and  the  writer,  an  Ortho 
dox  church-member,  says,  — 

"  '  I  was  a  convert  to  Theodore  Parker  before  I  was  a  convert 

to .     If  there  is  any  thing  of  value  in  the  work  I  am  doing 

to-day,  it  may,  in  an  important  sense,  be  said  to  have  had  its 
root  in  Parker's  heresy:  I  mean  the  habit  —  without  which 
Orthodoxy  stands  emasculated,  and  good  for  nothing — of  inde 
pendently  passing  on  the  empty  and  rotten  pretensions  of 
churches  and  churchmen,  which  I  learned  earliest,  and  more 
than  from  any  other,  from  Theodore  Parker.  He  has  my  love, 
my  respect,  my  admiration.' 

"  Yes,  his  diocese  is  broader  than  Massachusetts.  His  in 
fluence  extends  very  far  outside  these  walls.  Every  pulpit 
in  Boston  is  freer  and  more  real  to-day  because  of  the  ex 
istence  of  this.  The  fan  of  his  example  scattered  the  chaff 
of  a  hundred  sapless  years.  One  whole  city  is  fresher  to-day 
because  of  him.  The  most  sickly  and  timid  soul  under 
yonder  steeple,  hide-bound  in  days  and  forms  and  beggarly 
Jewish  elements,  little  dreams  how  ten  times  worse  and 
narrower  it  was  before  this  sun  warmed  the  general  atmos 
phere  around.  As  was  said  of  Burke's  unsuccessful  impeach 
ment  of  Warren  Hastings,  *  Never  was  the  great  object  of 
punishment,  the  prevention  of  crime,  more  completely  obtained. 
Hastings  was  acquitted ;  but  tyranny  and  injustice  were 
condemned  wherever  English  was  spoken.'  So  we  may  say 
of  Boston  and  Theodore  Parker.  Grant  that  few  adopted 
his  extreme  theological  views,  that  not  many  sympathized  in  his 
politics  :  still,  that  Boston  is  nobler,  purer,  braver,  more  loving, 
more  Christian,  to-day,  is  due  more  to  him  than  to  all  the  pulpits 
that  vex  her  sabbath  air.  He  raised  the  level  of  sermons  intel 
lectually  and  morally.  Other  preachers  were  compelled  to  grow 
in  manly  thought  and  Christian  morals  in  very  self-defence.  As 
47 


554  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Christ  preached  of  the  fall  of  the  tower  of  Siloam  the  week 
before,  and  what  men  said  of  it  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  ; 
so  Parker  rang  through  our  startled  city  the  news  of  some  fresh 
crime  against  humanity,  —  some  slave-hunt,  or  wicked  court,  or 
prostituted  official,  — till  frightened  audiences  actually  took  bond 
of  their  new  clergyman  that  they  should  not  be  tormented 
before  their  time. 

"  Men  say  he  erred  on  that  great  question  of  our  age,  —  the 
place  due  to  the  Bible.  But  William  Crafts,  one  of  the  bravest 
men  who  ever  fled  from  our  vulture  to  Victoria,  writes  to  a 
friend,  'When  the  slave-hunters  were  on  our  track,  and  no 
other  minister  except  yourself  came  to  direct  our  attention  to 
the  God  of  the  oppressed,  Mr.  Parker  came  with  his  wise 
counsel,  and  told  us  where  and  how  to  go  ;  gave  us  money. 
But  that  was  not  all :  he  gave  me  a  weapon  to  protect  our  liber 
ties,  and  a  Bible  to  guide  our  souls.  I  have  that  Bible  now,  and 
shall  ever  prize  it  most  highly.' 

"  How  direct  and  frank  his  style  !  —  just  level  to  the  nation's 
ear.  No  man  ever  needed  to  read  any  of  his  sentences  twice 
to  catch  its  meaning.  None  suspected  that  he  thought  other 
than  he  said,  or  more  than  he  confessed. 

"  Like  all  such  men,  he  grew  daily ;  never  too  old  to  learn. 
Mark  how  closer  to  actual  life,  how  much  bolder  in  reform,  are 
all  his  later  sermons,  especially  since  he  came  to  the  city, 
every  year  a  step 

'  Forward  persevering  to  the  last, 
From  well  to  better,  daily  self -surpassed.' 

"  There  are  men  whom  we  measure  by  their  times,  content 
and  expecting  to  find  them  subdued  to  what  they  work  in. 
They  are  the  chameleons  of  circumstance  ;  they  are  ^olian 
harps,  toned  by  the  breeze  that  sweeps  over  them.  There  are 
others  who  serve  as  guide-posts  and  landmarks  :  we  measure 
their  times  by  them.  Such  was  Theodore  Parker.  Hereafter 
the  writer  will  use  him  as  a  mete-wand  to  measure  the  heart 
and  civilization  of  Boston.  Like  the  Englishman,  a  year  or  two 
ago,  who  suspected  our  great  historian  could  not  move  in  the 
best  circles  of  the  city  when  it  dropped  out  that  he  did  not 
know  Theodore  Parker,  distant  men  gauge  us  by  our  tolera 
tion  and  recognition  of  him.  Such  men  are  our  nilometers  : 


TRIBUTES.  555 

the  harvest  of  the  future  is  according  to  the  height  that  the 
flood  of  our  love  rises  round  them.  Who  cares  now  that  Har 
vard  vouchsafed  him  no  honors  ?  But  history  will  save  the  fact 
to  measure  the  calculating  and  prudent  bigotry  of  our  times. 

"  Some  speak  of  him  only  as  a  bitter  critic  and  harsh 
prophet.  Pulpits  and  journals  shelter  their  plain  speech  in 
mentioning  him  under  the  example  of  what  they  call  his  'un 
sparing  candor.'  Do  they  feel  that  the  strangeness  of  their 
speech,  their  unusual  frankness,  needs  apology  and  example  ? 
But  he  was  far  other  than  a  bitter  critic  ;  though  thank  God  for 
every  drop  of  that  bitterness  that  came  like  a  wholesome 
rebuke  on  the  dead,  saltless  sea  of  American  life  !  Thank  God 
for  every  indignant  protest,  for  every  Christian  admonition,  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  breathed  through  those  manly  lips  !  But,  if  he 
deserved  any  single  word,  it  was  'generous.'  Vir generosus  is 
the  description  that  leaps  to  the  lip  of  every  scholar.  He  was 
generous  of  money.  Born  on  a  New-England  farm  in  those 
days  when  small  incomings  made  every  dollar  a  matter  of  im 
portance,  he  no  sooner  had  command  of  wealth  than  he  lived 
with  open  hands.  Not  even  the  darling  ambition  of  a  great 
library  ever  tempted  him  to  close  his  ear  to  need.  Go  to 
Venice  or  Vienna,  to  Frankfort  or  to  Paris,  and  ask  the  refu 
gees  who  have  gone  back  —  when  here  friendless  exiles  but 
for  him  —  under  whose  roof  they  felt  most  at  home.  One  of 
our  oldest  and  best  teachers  writes  me,  that  telling  him  once,  in 
the  cars,  of  a  young  lad  of  rare  mathematical  genius  who  could 
read  Laplace,  but  whom  narrow  means  debarred  from  the 
university,  '  Let  him  enter,'  said  Theodore  Parker  :  *  I  will  pay 
his  bills.' " 

"  No  sect,  no  special  study,  no  one  idea,  bounded  his  sympa 
thy  ;  but  he  was  generous  in  judgment  where  a  common  man 
would  have  found  it  hard  to  be  so.  Though  he  does  not  go 
*  down  to  dust  without  his  fame,'  though  Oxford  and  Germany 
sent  him  messages  of  sympathy,  still  no  word  of  approbation 
from  the  old  grand  names  of  our  land,  no  honors  from  univer 
sity  or  learned  academy,  greeted  his  brave,  diligent,  earnest  life. 
Men  can  confess  that  they  voted  against  his  admission  to  sci 
entific  bodies  for  his  ideas,  feeling  all  the  while  that  his  brain 
could  furnish  half  the  academy ;  and  yet,  thus  ostracized,  he 
was  the  most  generous  —  more  than  just  —  interpreter  of  the 


556  THEODORE  PARKER. 

motives  of  those  about  him,  and  looked  on,  while  others  reaped 
where  he  sowed,  with  most  generous  joy  in  their  success. 
Patiently  analyzing  character,  and  masterly  in  marshalling  facts, 
he  stamped  with  generous  justice  the  world's  final  judgment  of 
Webster  ;  and,  now  that  the  soreness  of  the  battle  is  over, 
friend  and  foe  allow  it. 

"  He  was  generous  of  labor.  Books  never  served  to  excuse 
him  from  any  the  humblest  work.  Though  'hiving  wisdom 
with  each  studious  year,'  and  passionately  devoted  to  his  desk, 
as  truly  as  was  said  of  Milton,  '  the  lowliest  duties  on  himself 
he  laid.'  What  drudgery  of  the  street  did  that  scholarly  hand 
ever  refuse  ?  Who  so  often  and  constant  as  he  in  the  trenches 
when  a  slave-case  made  our  city  a  camp  ?  Loving  books,  he 
had  no  jot  of  a  scholar's  indolence  or  timidity,  but  joined  hands 
with  labor  everywhere.  Erasmus  would  have  found  him  good 
company,  and  Melancthon  got  brave  help  over  a  Greek  manu 
script  :  but  the  likeliest  place  to  have  found  him  in  that  age 
would  have  been  at  Zwingle's  side  on  the  battle-field,  pierced 
with  a  score  of  fanatic  spears  ;  for,  above  all  things,  he  was  ter 
ribly  in  earnest.  If  I  might  paint  him  in  one  word,  I  should 
say  he  was  always  in  earnest. 

"  Fortunate  man  !  he  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  nation  turned  toward  him  as  to  a  trusted  teacher  ;  fortu 
nate,  indeed,  in  a  life  so  noble,  that  even  what  was  scorned 
from  the  pulpit  will  surely  become  oracular  from  the  tomb ; 
thrice  fortunate,  if  he  loved  fame  and  future  influence,  that  the 
leaves  which  bear  his  thoughts  to  posterity  are  not  freighted 
with  words  penned  by  sickly  ambition,  or  wrung  from  hunger, 
but  with  earnest  thoughts  on  dangers  that  make  the  ground 
tremble  under  our  feet,  and  the  heavens  black  over  our  head,  — 
the  only  literature  sure  to  live.  Ambition  says,  '  I  will  write, 
and  be  famous.'  It  is  only  a  dainty  tournament,  a  sham-fight ; 
forgotten  when  the  smoke  clears  away.  Real  books  are  like 
Yorktown  or  Waterloo,  whose  cannon  shook  continents  at  the 
moment,  and  echo  down  the  centuries.  Through  such  chan 
nels  Parker  poured  his  thoughts. 

"  And  true  hearts  leaped  to  his  side.  No  man's  brain  ever 
made  him  warmer  friends ;  no  man's  heart  ever  held  them 
firmer.  He  loved  to  speak  of  how  many  hands  he  had  in  every 
city,  in  every  land,  ready  to  work  for  him.  With  royal  serenity 


TRIBUTES.  557 

he  levied  on  all.  Vassal  hearts  multiplied  the  great  chiefs 
powers  ;  and  at  home  the  gentlest  and  deepest  love,  saintly, 
unequalled  devotion,  made  every  hour  sunny,  held  off  every 
care,  and  left  him  double  liberty  to  work.  God  comfort  that 
widowed  heart  ! 

"Judge  him  by  his  friends.  No  man  suffered  anywhere  who 
did  not  feel  sure  of  his  sympathy.  In  sick-chambers,  and  by 
the  side  of  suffering  humanity,  he  kept  his  heart  soft  and  young. 
No  man  lifted  a  hand  anywhere  for  truth  and  right  who  did  not 
look  on  Theodore  Parker  as  his  fellow-laborer.  When  men 
hoped  for  the  future,  this  desk  was  one  stone  on  which  they 
planted  their  feet.  Where  more  frequent  than  around  his 
board  would  you  find  men  familiar  with  Europe's  dungeons  and 
the  mobs  of  our  own  streets  ?  Wherever  the  fugitive  slave 
might  worship,  here  was  his  Gibraltar  :  over  his  mantel,  however 
scantily  furnished,  in  this  city  or  elsewhere,  you  were  sure  to 
find  a  picture  of  Parker. 

"  The  blessings  of  the  poor  are  his  laurels.  Say  that  his 
words  won  doubt  and  murmur  to  trust  in  a  loving  God :  let  that 
be  his  record.  Say  that  to  the  hated  and  friendless  he  was 
shield  and  buckler :  let  that  be  his  epitaph.  The  glory  of 
children  is  the  fathers.  When  you  voted  '  that  Theodore  Parker 
should  be  heard  in  Boston,'  God  honored  you.  Well  have  you 
kept  that  pledge.  In  much  labor  and  with  many  sacrifices  he 
has  laid  the  corner-stone  :  his  work  is  ended  here.  God  calls 
you  to  put  on  the  top-stone.  Let  fearless  lips  and  Christian 
lives  be  his  monument." 

Theodore  Parker's  friends  have  spared  no  pains  to  keep 
his  memory  green.  Skilful  men  of  letters,  themselves 
teachers  and  reformers,  have  analyzed  his  mental  and 
moral  character  with  rare  delicacy.  Preachers  in  sympa 
thy,  some  with  his  theology,  and  some  with  his  religion, 
have  done  their  best  to  exhibit  him  as  he  was  in  his  posi 
tive  attitudes  toward  his  generation.  The  Parker  Frater 
nity  have,  from  winter  to  winter,  invited  men  who  were 
supposed  to  know  him  better  than  most  to  call  up  his 
image  freshly  for  study  and  admiration.  Samuel  Johnson 
and  John  Weiss  have  been  among  these. 

47* 


558  THEODORE  PARKER. 

The  present  biographer  is  permitted  to  use  the  follow 
ing  familiar  letters  from  Prof.  Edward  Desor,  written  sev 
eral  years  after  his  beloved  friend's  decease  :  — 

From  Prof.  E.  Desor. 

NEUFCHATEL,  Feb.  13,  1868. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  PARKER,  —  This  is  the  second  letter  which 
I  am  able  to  write  these  last  five  weeks.  Except  one  or  two 
days,  I  cannot  complain  of  severe  pains  ;  but  it  is  exceed 
ingly  tedious  to  be  deprived  of  the  use  of  the  right  arm  and 
hand.  Thus  every  year  makes  us  acquainted  with  some  new 
misery.  What  meaning  and  benefit  there  is  in  it,  I  could  not, 
thus  far,  ascertain.  Still  I  ought  not  to  complain,  since  my  lot  is 
not  of  the  worst ;  and  I  am  aware  that  many  consider  it  as  rather 
enviable.  Do  you  know  that  I  am  drawing  fast  near  sixty  ? 
Fifty-seven  years  is  no  joke.  It  means  that  I  am  an  old  man, 
and  that  I  must  prepare  myself  for  the  great  departure. 

But  life  needs  not,  for  that  reason,  to  be  void  ;  nor  is  it.  I 
consider,  on  the  contrary,  that  I  have  still  somewhat  to  do  in 
scientific  as  well  as  in  matters  of  general  improvement.  I  espe 
cially  consider  as  such  any  thing  that  is  done  in  the  spirit  of 
our  dear  Theodore  Parker.  There  are  some  reforms  going  on 
in  our  country  —  for  instance,  at  Bale  —  which  would  have 
filled  our  departed  friend  with  joy.  A  new  church  is  being 
formed,  quite  in  the  spirit  of  Parker ;  and  I  know  that  his  name 
is  often  mentioned  there  as  one  of  the  best  authorities.  Of 
course,  they  have  to  fight  for  their  cause,  as  Parker  had  in 
Boston,  especially  against  all  the  so-called  respectable  people, 
who  are,  for  the  most  part,  very  orthodoK.  Now  the  young 
church  has  organized  a  series  of  public  lectures,  which  are  deliv 
ered  on  the  critical  questions,  such  as  atonement,  miracles,  sac 
raments,  &c.,  by  the  most  eminent  clergymen  of  the  new 
school. 

But  that  is  not  all.  After  the  lecture  comes  the  discussion  ; 
the  head  of  the  other  party  being  there  to  defend  their  thesis. 
The  people,  seeing  that  it  was  a  serious  debate,  proposed  that 
the  discussion  should  take  place  in  the  large  hall  of  the  garden 
ers'  guild,  in  which  the  same  questions  were  discussed  at  the 
time  of  the  Reformation.  Of  course,  they  did  not  convert  each 


TRIBUTES.  559 

other ;  but.  according  to  what  I  heard,  the  discussions  bore  a 
serious  and  solemn  character.  Every  thing  went  on  in  a  very 
proper  manner  ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  will  be  for  the  bene 
fit  of  the  great  cause  of  progress.  What  I  am  still  more  sure 
is,  that,  had  our  dear  Parker  been  among  us,  he  would  have 
done  his  best  to  encourage  this  new  church. 

What  shall  I  tell  you  from  here  ?  I  am  sitting  on  a  beauti 
ful  morning  in  the  upper  floor  of  my  house,  with  a  fine  sun 
that  falls  into  the  room,  quickening  and  cheering  both  my  little 
birds,  who  are  singing  as  much  as  they  can,  and  the  flowers 
which  Mary  has  raised  for  my  birthday,  —  splendid  hyacinths, 
as  fine  as  I  ever  saw.  As  to  Mary  herself,  she  is  still  unmar 
ried,  and  growing  old  and  gray,  but  still  kind  and  careful. 
There  is  not  much  new  in  Combe  Varin,  except  that  the  last 
storm  has  broken  M.  Martin's  tall  pine-tree  along  the  roadside  (I 
have  not  yet  dared  to  inform  him  of  the  accident) ;  whereas  the 
double-headed  Parker  tree  is  still  alive,  although  rather  sickly. 
Lyman's  linden,  on  the  contrary,  is  in  full  vigor.  A  new  one 
has  been  dedicated  to  friend  Lesley. 

Your  most  affectionate 

E.  DESOR. 

Pray  go  occasionally  to  Cambridge,  and  pay  a  visit  to  Mrs. 
Manning  for  my  sake. 

From  the  Same. 

NEUFCHATEL,  Feb.  13,  1869. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  PARKER,  —  I  am  just  leaving  my  breakfast- 
table,  which  I  found  decorated  with  magnificent  hyacinths,  snow 
drops,  and  other  flowers,  which  Mary  has  raised  during  the  last 
months.  There  was  also  a  mighty  cake  with  my  name  on  it. 
All  that  is  very  neat ;  but,  unfortunately,  its  true  meaning  is  not 
very  pleasant,  because  it  is  a  step  more  towards  the  dissolution 
of  our  body.  Well,  it  does  not,  after  all,  matter  much,  provided 
the  mind  preserves  some  strength  and  brightness.  In  this 
respect,  I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  have  not  to  complain.  And  I 
dare  say,  if  our  dear  Parker  were  alive,  he  would  approve  of 
what  we  have  done,  and  are  still  doing,  in  a  department  which 
was  more  especially  his  ;  viz.,  in  liberal  theology.  We  are 
organizing  a  church,  which  is  very  much  like  his  own,  —  per- 


560  THEODORE  PARKER. 

haps  a  little  more  radical,  — and  which  may  resume  itself  in  the 
following  tenets  :  — 

A  church  without  sacerdoce, 
A  religion  without  catechism, 
A  worship  without  mystery, 
A  moral  without  theology, 
A  God  without  system. 

This  doctrine,  which  disclaims,  of  course,  all  sorts  of  sacra 
ments  and  of  miraculous  intervention,  was  preached  a  few 
months  ago  by  a  young  professor  of  philosophy ;  and  caused, 
as  you  may  imagine,  a  great  disturbance  among  the  orthodox. 
Still  the  discussion  went  on  decently  ;  which  would  not  have 
been  the  case  some  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago.  Some  of  the 
most  eminent  leaders  of  the  French  Rational  Church  came  to 
second  us  ;  among  others  a  M.  Felix  Pdcaud,  well  known  by 
several  publications,  and  a  great  admirer  of  Parker.  You  can 
not  imagine  how  delighted  he  was  to  find  around  me  so  many 
traces  of  our  lamented  friend.  I  showed  him  his  likeness, 
some  of  his  letters,  his  works  ;  which  all  interested  him  in  the 
highest  degree.  Had  it  not  been  so  cold,  I  would  have  brought 
him  to  Combe  Varin  to  show  him  the  room,  and  the  pine-tree 
which  bears  his  name.  The  latter  is  still  alive,  although  some 
what  weather-beaten;  whereas  that  of  Martin,  on  the  side  of 
the  road,  has  been  blown  down. 

I  wish  and  hope  this  letter  may  find  you  in  good  health,  and 
that  you  will  not  forget  to  tell  me  of  it.  Pray  give  my  very 
best  regards  to  Miss  Shannon,  whom  I  liked  very  much  indeed. 
What  a  pity  it  was  that  I  could  not  enjoy  more  her  company  ! 
Give  also  my  regards  to  Miss  Stevenson  ;  and,  should  you  hap 
pen  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  old  Mother  Manning  at  Cambridge,  do 
not  forget  to  remember  me  in  your  conversation. 
Yours, 

E.  DESOR. 

Mary  sends  her  best  love.     She  has  not  yet  found  a  hus 
band  ;  but  has  not  yet  given  it  up. 


TRIBUTES.  561 


From  the  Same. 

NEUFCHATEL,  Feb.  13,  1870. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  PARKER,  —  I  will  not  follow  your  example ; 
and,  rather  than  suppose  that  you  do  not  care  about  this  corre 
spondence,  I  prefer  supposing  that  some  accident  has  prevented 
you  from  writing  on  Parker's  birthday.  Perhaps  you  have  been 
absent,  or  had  too  much  to  do  ;  although  I  am  at  loss  to  sup 
pose  what  business  you  may  have.  Let  me  suppose  that  you 
are  still  enjoying  that  excellent  health  which  was  your  privilege 
thus  far.  As  to  myself,  I  have  no  reason  to  complain  this  year 
with  my  health  :  it  has  been  better  than  many  years  before. 
The  rheumatism,  especially,  has  not  taken  hold  of  me  ;  and  this 
is  an  unexpected  good  fortune.  Nor  was  I  less  active  than  in 
former  years.  My  burden,  instead  of  being  lightened,  has,  on 
the  contrary,  been  increased ;  for  they  have  elected  me  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Swiss  Congress,  which  will  oblige  me  to  spend  yearly 
about  two  months  at  Berne  for  the  coming  three  years.  My 
relation  with  Theodore  Parker  has  also  caused  me  an  increase 
of  business,  inasmuch  as  they  have  created  in  our  canton  a 
liberal  church,  which  has  caused  a  great  deal  of  trouble  among 
the  conservatives  and  fogies  of  all  descriptions.  Of  course, 
Parker's  friend  could  not  stay  away.  My  house  was,  on  the 
contrary,  frequently  the  rendezvous  of  the  various  preachers 
and  leaders  of  the  movement.  This,  of  course,  did  not  make  me 
very  beloved  among  the  fashionable  people  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  made  me  rather  popular  among  the  liberal  minds  of  all 
Switzerland.  Among  the  lecturers  who  came  to  us  from  the 
various  parts  of  France  and  Belgium,  there  was  also  a  M. 
Bost,  preacher  at  Verviers  (Belgium),  who  gave  us  an  excellent 
letter  about  our  dear  Theodore  Parker.  The  lecturer  was  lis 
tened  to  with  great  attention  and  earnestness  ;  and  I  dare  say 
this  noble  life,  exposed  with  great  enthusiasm,  had  a  good  influ 
ence  on  our  public.  —  Mary  sends  her  kindest  regards.  She  is 
still  the  old  busy  housekeeper,  taking  great  care  of  every  thing, 
—  the  animals,  the  plants,  and  even  the  books. 

I  do  not  know  why  neither  friend  Lyman  nor  friend  Lesley 
writes  to  me.  I  intend  to  spend  a  week  with  Martin  in  the 
month  of  March.  We  have  now  a  great  deal  of  snow,  and 

sleighing  in  general. 

Your  E.  DESOR. 


562  THEODORE  PARKER. 


From  the  Same. 

NEUFCHATEL,  Feb.  13,  1872. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  PARKER,  —  Again  a  year  more ;  again  a 
large  step  on  the  slope  that  leads  to  the  close  of  this  earthly 
career  :  but,  instead  of  being  quiet,  I  am  more  than  ever  in  the 
harness,  and  can  hardly,  among  the  pre-occupations  of  our 
federal  and  cantonal  revision,  find  a  moment  to  devote  to  the 
absent  friends.  You  will  therefore  excuse  me  for  being  rather 
brief  this  time.  And  still  there  are  many  things  which  I  would 
like  to  talk  over  with  you,  if  I  could  sit  quietly  down  and 
review  the  past  days.  My  scientific  pursuits  led  me  last 
autumn  to  Italy,  where  there  was  an  international  congress  of 
anthropology  and  prehistoric  archaeology  (at  Bologna).  I  went 
from  Bologna  to  Rome  and  Naples,  and  thought  with  uncom 
mon  interest  of  the  excursion  which  we  once  decided  to  make 
to  the  Vesuv  with  our  dear  friend  Theodore.  How  he  would 
have  enjoyed  such  excursions  with  men  of  science,  as  were  my 
companions,  in  the  pursuit  not  only  of  natural  problems,  but 
also  of  archaeological  ones,  such  as  are  now  being  discussed 
everywhere ! 

It  was  not  our  intention  to  stay  at  Florence ;  but,  in  order 
to  be  there  a  day,  I  separated  from  my  companions  at  Pisa,  and 
went  to  Florence.  It  was  on  a  fine  day.  My  first  and  near 
attraction  was  the  grave  in  the  churchyard,  you  know.  I 
spent  there  about  an  hour  in  quiet  and  silence.  The  tomb 
was  in  a  proper  state  of  conservation  ;  the  rose-bush  vigorous, 
and  so  the  ivy.  I  took  a  leaf  of  the  last ;  which  I  sent  in  a 
letter  to  one  of  the  heads  of  our  church,  one  of  the  greatest 
admirers  of  Parker,  —  Dr.  Lang  at  Zurich.  I  took  also  the  last 
bud  of  the  rose,  which  I  keep  for  a  French  admirer  of  Parker,  — • 
Mr.  Felix  Pdcaud,  one  of  the  finest  minds  and  noblest  hearts 
I  have  met  in  this  life.  You  will,  perhaps,  ask  why  I  did  not 
cut  one  for  you.  This  was,  indeed,  my  first  impression  ;  and  I 
would  have  done  it,  had  I  not  considered  how  many  Americans 
are  living  at  and  travelling  to  Florence,  and  that  it  is  but 
natural  to  think  that  some  of  them  are  anxious  of  visiting  that 
venerated  grave,  and  provide  you  with  flowers  and  leaves.  Our 
friend  Lyman  was  also  present  before  my  mind  when  I  sat  on 
the  margin  of  the  beloved  grave.  Pray  tell  his  wife,  Mrs. 


TRIBUTES.  563 

Lyman,  that  I  understand  how  every  thing  and  every  word 
that  reminds  her  husband  must  be  interesting  to  her.  There 
was  never  a  nobler  character  than  his. 

I  had  the  misfortune  of  missing,  last  summer,  the  visit  of 
Dr.  Samuel  Cabot  and  his  wife.  It  was  a  great  disappointment 
for  me.  Were  I  not  so  short  of  time,  I  would  have  written  long 
ago.  My  old  Mary  asks  me  to  remember  her  to  good  Mrs. 
Parker,  and  to  say  that  she  has  not  yet  found  a  husband.  She 
is  growing  old. 

Your  most  sincerely, 

E.  DESOR. 

From  the  Same. 

NEUFCHATEL,  April  6,  1873. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  PARKER,  —  It  is  for  the  first  time  that  I  am 
late  with  my  writing  to  you  on  my  birthday.  Strange  !  the 
older  I  am  growing,  the  more  have  I  to  work  in  all  directions  ; 
so  that  I  am  obliged  to  neglect  those  duties  which  I  ought 
above  all  to  fulfil.  It  is  a  peculiar  feature  of  our  small  repub 
lics,  that,  when  a  man  has  some  good  will  and  some  leisure 
for  working,  he  soon  gets  overburdened.  That  is  my  case  ; 
and  I  trust  that  you  will  take  it  into  consideration,  and  not  be 
angry  with  me  on  account  of  my  neglect. 

I  need  not  to  say  that  I  have  not  in  the  least  lost  sight  of 
the  happy  days  when  I  used  to  enjoy  your  and  our  dear  Par 
ker's  company,  and  delight  in  his  noble  deeds.  Could  I  forget 
the  benefit  which  I  derived  from  this  intercourse,  the  interest 
ing  reforms  which  are  going  on  in  religious  matters  would 
suffice  to  recall  our  beloved  friend  to  my  memory.  I  do  not 
know  how  they  think  of  him  and  of  his  labors  in  the  United 
States  :  the  fact  is,  that  no  important  step  is  taken  in  our 
religious  affairs  without  the  name  of  Parker  being  quoted.  I 
know  more  than  one  of  our  Unitarian  ministers  who  has  no 
greater  aim  than  to  follow  his  footsteps.  Were  you  to  attend 
our  meetings,  you  would  frequently  hear  him  quoted  as  one  of 
the  most  prominent  preachers  of  the  present  age.  There  is 
especially  one  of  our  Unitarian  ministers,  Dr.  Lang  of  Zurich, 
now  the  leading  man  among  the  Swiss  Unitarians,  who  con 
siders  him  almost  as  a  prophet. 

I  had,  some  months  ago,  the  occasion  of  making  the  acquaint 
ance  of  another  admirer  of  Parker,  —  Miss  Carpenter, — who  felt 


564  THEODORE  PARKER. 

very  thankful  when  I  gave  her  a  little  seal  with  Parker's  head, 
which  I  had  at  the  time  made  at  Florence.  This  noble  woman 
is,  as  I  hear,  about  to  start  for  Boston,  in  spite  of  her  seventy 
years,  for  the  sake  of  organizing  refuge-houses  for  the  liberated 
criminals  and  abandoned  children,  after  the  model  of  the  Eng 
lish  institutes  of  that  kind.  Should  you  happen  to  meet  her, 
I  pray  you  to  remember  me  kindly  to  her,  and  to  return  her 
friendly  remembrance. 

Now  as  to  myself  and  my  household.  I  have  nothing  particu 
lar  to  say,  except  that,  in  spite  of  the  age,  I  try  to  keep  as  active 
as  possible  ;  and,  in  fact,  I  far  prefer  to  have  too  much  to  do 
than  too  little.  My  public  duties  call  me  frequently  abroad,  to 
Berne  as  well  as  to  Zurich.  Friend  Parker  would  probably  be 
very  much  astonished  to  hear  that  I  am  now  vice-president  of 
the  Swiss  House  of  Representatives.  My  household  is  pretty 
much  the  same.  There  is  old  Mary,  still  active  and  devoted, 
August,  and  partly,  also,  Benj,  although  the  latter  is  married. 
Mary  has  given  up  marrying.  I  intend  to  start,  towards  the 
end  of  next  month,  for  the  World's  Exhibition  at  Vienna.  Now 
please  let  me  know  how  you  are,  and  believe  me  ever 
Your  faithful 

E.  DESOR. 

After  this,  it  may  seem  unnecessary,  to  say  the  least, 
for  the  writer  of  this  biography  to  add  any  words  of  his 
own  descriptive  of  Theodore  Parker ;  for  though  the 
language  quoted  above,  as  well  as  much  of  that  referred 
to,  is  the  language  of  eulogy,  still  it  is  the  language  of 
wise  and  discriminating  men,  who  praise  thoughtfully, 
and  judge  while  they  praise.  But  the  familiar  daily  con 
verse  with  private  journals  and  letters  makes  on  the  mind 
a  peculiar  impression  quite  different  from  that  left  by 
study  of  published  writings,  or  observations  of  an  open 
career  ;  and  which  may  be  worth  preserving.  The  careful 
biographer  sees  traits  that  are  concealed  from  even  the 
discerning  eye  of  companion  or  onlooker,  and  detects 
mental  qualities  which  are  overlaid  by  the  deposits  of 
outward  life.  Parker  had  a  habit  of  confiding  secrets  to 


TRIBUTES.  565 

his  journal ;  of  laying  bare  the  processes  by  which  his 
results  were  reached ;  and  so  revealing,  as  it  were,  the 
texture  of  his  faculties,  the  intellectual  "  protoplasm,"  if  I 
may  use  the  word,  which  afterward  took  forms  of  life. 
To  one  who  has  been  privileged  to  examine  this,  much  of 
what  has  been  said  by  way  of  commendation  and  of  cen 
sure  is  aside  from  the  truth.  The  student  of  these  pri 
vate  papers  is  confirmed  in  an  assurance  of  the  man's 
simple  genuineness,  of  his  honesty,  sincerity,  faithfulness, 
more  than  that,  of  his  strict  dealing  with  himself,  his 
humility,  modesty,  unpretentiousness,  lowliness,  and  puri 
ty  of  spirit.  Anybody  who  would  might  see  that  he  was  a 
good  deal  of  a  hero  :  his  biographer  knows  that  he  was 
a  good  deal  of  a  saint.  His  power  to  assert  his  will  was 
apparent  to  all,  painfully  evident  to  some.  His  power  to 
resign  his  will  they  only  knew  who  knew  him  intimately  : 
they  knew,  too,  from  what  self-submission  his  self-asser 
tion  sprang.  Men  are  ready  to  tell  of  the  wilfulness  he 
exhibited:  they  cannot  tell  of  the  wilfulness  he  sup 
pressed.  His  individuality  looked  aggressive,  and  doubt 
less  it  was  :  but  it  must  be  said  that  he  was  as  jealous  of 
others'  individuality  as  of  his  own ;  laid  on  himself  a  sol 
emn  vow  never  to  infringe  on  the  sacred  personality  of 
enemy  or  friend;  and  piously  abstained  from  crushing 
when  he  could  not  lead.  The  efforts  he  made  to  keep 
himself  down  appear  in  every  volume  of  the  journal,  and 
make  passages  of  it  as  touching  as  the  confessions  of 
St.  Augustine  or  the  soliloquies  of  Paul. 

He  was  fond  of  roughly  classifying  the  human  faculties 
for  practical  purposes,  thus:  i.  The  religious;  2.  The 
moral ;  3.  The  affectional ;  4.  The  intellectual.  WOR 
SHIP  OF  THE  ABSOLUTE  PERFECTION  :  that  Was  chief.  AL 
LEGIANCE  TO  ETERNAL  LAW  :  that  came  next.  Subordinate 
only  to  these  were  LOVING  FIDELITY  TO  HUMAN  RELATIONS, 
POWER  OF  UNDERSTANDING.  Mental  power,  in  its  several 
phases,  majestic  and  important  as  it  is,  must  be  placed 
48 


566  THEODORE  PARKER. 

last.  Saint,  hero,  lover,  thinker,  —  this  was  the  order  of 
his  human  hierarchy.  The  classification  may  have  re 
flected  his  own  nature  :  whether  it  did  or  not,  his  own 
nature  illustrated  the  classification. 

With  him  the  religious  sentiment  was  supreme.  It  had 
roots  in  his  being  wholly  distinct  from  its  mental  or  sen 
sible  forms  of  expression,  —  completely  distinguished  from 
theology,  which  claimed  to  give  an  account  of  it  in  words ; 
and  from  ceremonies,  which  claimed  to  embody  it  in 
rites  and  symbols.  Never  evaporating  in  mystical  dreams, 
nor  entangled  in  the  meshes  of  cunning  speculation,  it 
preserved  its  freshness  and  bloom  and  fragrance  in  every 
passage  of  his  life.  His  sense  of  the  reality  of  divine 
things  was  as  strong  as  was  ever  felt  by  a  man  of  such 
clear  intelligence.  His  feeling  for  divine  things  never 
lost  its  glow  ;  never  was  damped  by  misgiving,  dimmed  by 
doubt,  or  clouded  by  sorrow.  The  intensity  of  his  faith 
in  Providence,  and  of  his  assurance  of  personal  immortality, 
seems  almost  fanatical  to  modern  men  who  sympathize  in 
general  with  his  philosophy.  His  confidence  in  the  lat 
ter  faith  particularly,  not  all  theists  share.  Yet  to  him  it 
was  native,  instinctive  (in  the  sense  of  spontaneous  and 
irresistible),  born  of  reverence,  aspiration,  trust,  affection, 
which  were  ineradicable  qualities  of  his  being.  So  far 
from  dreading  to  submit  his  faith  to  tests,  he  courted 
tests;  was  as  eager  to  hear  the  arguments  against  his 
belief  as  for  it ;  was  as  fair  in  weighing  evidence  on  his 
opponent's  side  as  on  his  own.  "  Oh  that  mine  adver 
sary  had  written  a  book  ! "  he  was  ready  to  cry,  not  that 
he  might  demolish  it,  but  that  he  might  read  it.  He 
knew  the  writings  of  Moleschott,  and  talked  with  him 
personally.  The  books  of  Carl  Vogt  were  not  strange  to 
him.  The  philosophy  of  Ludwig  Biicrmer,  if  •  philosophy 
it  can  be  called,  was  as  familiar  to  him  as  to  any  of  Biich- 
ner's  disciples.  He  was  intimate  with  the  thoughts  of 
Feuerbach.  He  drew  into  discussion  every  atheist  and 


TRIBUTES.  567 

materialist  he  met ;  talked  with  them  closely,  confiden 
tially  ;  and  rose  from  the  interview  more  confident  in  the 
strength  of  his  own  positions  than  ever.  Darwin's  first 
book  "  On  the  Origin  of  Species,"  which  was  brought  to 
him  in  Rome,  contained  nothing  that  disturbed  him.  He 
thought  it  unsupported  in  many  of  its  facts,  and  hasty  in 
its  generalizations ;  but  the  doctrine  itself  was  not  offen 
sive  to  him.  Science  he  counted  his  best  friend ;  relied  on 
it  for  confirmation  of  his  faith ;  and  was  only  impatient  be 
cause  it  moved  no  faster.  All  the  materialists  in  and  out 
of  Christendom  had  no  power  to  shake  his  conviction  of  the 
infinite  God  and  the  immortal  existence ;  nor  would  have 
had,  had  he  lived  till  he  was  a  century  old  :  for,  in  his  view, 
the  convictions  were  planted  deep  in  human  nature,  and 
were  demanded  by  the  exigencies  of  human  life.  The  ser 
vice  they  rendered  to  mankind  would  have  been  their  suffi 
cient  justification,  had  he  found  no  other ;  and  in  this  aspect 
they  interested  him  chiefly.  He  used  them  daily,  as  man, 
as  minister,  as  reformer,  —  used  them  in  the  closet,  the 
study,  the  house  of  mourning,  the  arena  of  strife;  and, 
finding  them  suitable  for  all  emergencies,  accepted  them 
as  heavenly  provisions  for  them.  If  more  worked  their 
faiths  as  he  did,  fewer  would  assail  them.  Moleschott  re 
spected  Parker ;  Desor  was  his  confidential  friend  ;  Feuer- 
bach  would  have  taken  him  by  the  hand  as  a  brother. 

It  has  been  said  that  Parker  accomplished  nothing  final 
as  a  religious  reformer ;  that  if  he  thought  of  himself  as 
the  inaugurator  of  a  second  reformation,  a  reformation  of 
Protestantism,  the  leader  of  a  new  "  departure,"  as  signifi 
cant  and  momentous  as  that  of  the  sixteenth  century,  he 
deceived  himself.  Luther,  it  is  said,  found  a  stopping- 
place,  a  terminus,  and  erected  a  "  station,"  where  nearly 
half  of  Christendom  have  been  content  to  stay  for  three 
hundred  years,  and  will  linger,  perhaps,  three  hundred 
years  longer.  Parker  stretched  a  tent  near  what  proved  to 
be  a  "  branch-road,"  where  a  considerable  number  of  trav- 


5 68  THEODORE  PARKER. 

ellers  will  pause  on  their  journey,  and  refresh  themselves, 
while  waiting  for  the  "through-train."  That  Parker 
thought  otherwise,  that  he  believed  himself  sent  to  pro 
claim  and  define  the  faith  of  the  next  thousand  years, 
merely  gives  another  illustration  of  the  delusions  to  which 
even  great  minds  are  subject.  Already  thought  has  swept 
beyond  him ;  already  faith  has  struck  into  other  paths, 
and  taken  up  new  positions.  The  scientific  method  has 
supplanted  the  theological  and  sentimental,  and  has  car 
ried  many  over  to  new  regions  of  belief.  Parker  is  a 
great  name,  was  a  great  power,  will  be  a  great  memory  • 
but  it  is  doubtful  if  he  did  the  work  of  a  Voltaire  or  a 
Rousseau :  that  he  did  not  do  the  work  of  a  Luther  is  not 
doubtful  at  all. 

There  is  much  truth  in  this  ;  but  is  it  the  whole  truth  ? 
That  Parker  did  not  inaugurate  a  second  reformation  is 
frankly  conceded.  The  conditions  of  a  second  reforma 
tion  were  not  given.  In  Luther's  day  there  was  no  sci 
ence  as  there  is  now,  no  general  intelligence,  no  wide 
spread  literature,  no  awakened  thought.  Christendom 
included  civilized  and  intelligent  mind :  Romanism  stood 
for  Christendom.  It  was  a  solid  mass :  Luther  broke  it 
in  two,  and  of  one  part  made  a  separate  dominion ; 
which  can  never  be  done  again.  Luther's  "  terminus " 
was  not  for  all  time,  but  only  for  so  long  as  the  human 
mind  remained  in  essentially  the  same  condition  of  de 
pendence  in  which  he  found  it.  Protestantism  has  been 
decomposing  ever  since  it  began  its  career,  and  is,  by 
this  time,  pretty  thoroughly  demoralized.  The  trans 
lation  of  the  Bible  into  the  popular  speech,  on  which 
Luther  relied  for  the  establishment  of  his  reform,  did 
as  much  as  any  thing  to  scatter  its  force.  Had  Luther 
lived  in  the  nineteenth  century,  he  could  have  effected  no 
more  than  Parker  did.  Henceforth  it  will  be  impossible 
to  handle  masses  of  men  by  the  power  of  a  single  will  or 
a  single  idea. 


TRIBUTES.  569 

Certainly  Parker  was  not  a  discoverer.  He  originated 
no  doctrine ;  he  struck  out  no  path.  His  religious 
philosophy  existed  before  his  day,  and  owed  to  him  no 
fresh  development.  But  he  was  the  first  great  popular 
expounder  of  it ;  the  first  who  undertook  to  make  it  the 
basis  of  a  faith  for  the  common  people ;  the  first  who 
planted  it  as  the  corner-stone  of  the  working-religion  of 
mankind,  and  published  it  as  the  ground  of  a  new  spirit 
ual  structure,  distinct  from  both  Romanism  and  Prot 
estantism. 

Some  of  his  special  beliefs  have  been  dropped  already. 
Jesus  no  longer,  in  radical  thought,  holds  the  place  that 
Parker  gave  him.  The  ethics  of  the  New  Testament 
have  fallen  into  some  discredit  in  the  esteem  of  sci 
entific  moralists.  The  conception  of  Christianity,  in  its 
essence,  has  been  greatly  modified,  and  is  destined  to  yet 
further  modification.  But  these  are  incidental  points,  that 
do  not  affect  the  strength  of  his  general  position.  His 
peculiarity  was,  that,  assuming  man  to  have  a  spiritual 
nature,  he  went  directly  to  that  for  the  revelations  of  truth 
and  the  inspirations  of  duty.  The  Romanist  appealed  to 
the  Church ;  the  Protestant,  to  the  Bible  ;  Parker,  to  the 
soul.  The  intuitive  philosophy  was  his  stronghold.  That 
philosophy  is  not  obsolete.  It  has  lived  several  thousand 
years.  It  was  old  when  Plato  was  a  child ;  and  it  will 
endure  several  thousand  years  yet  to  come.  Parker's 
basis,  therefore,  is  permanent.  Others  may  build  upon  it 
different  structures ;  for  it  is  common  ground,  wide  enough 
for  whole  cities  to  stand  upon  :  but  the  structure  which 
Parker  built  —  so  ample,  comfortable,  hospitable,  conven 
ient,  easy  of  access,  commanding  in  site,  stately  at  once, 
and  democratic  —  will  be  the  welcome  home  of  multi 
tudes  who  are  wanderers  in  the  intellectual  world,  and 
unable  to  construct  heavenly  mansions  for  themselves. 
The  few  educated,  cultivated,  self-reliant,  must  be  left  out 
of  the  account.  Romanism  never  included  everybody. 
48* 


570  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Lutheranism  was  pronounced  unsatisfactory  by  the  best 
thinkers  of  the  reformer's  own  day.  This  will  be  the  case, 
even  more,  with  "  Parkerism."  For  all  that,  "  Parkerism  " 
may  deserve  to  be  regarded  as  a  form  of  religion  ;  and 
Parker  may  merit  the  name  of  founder,  —  not  of  a  sect, 
certainly ;  he  never  dreamed  of  that :  nor  of  a  church ; 
for  he  believed  more  in  ideas  than  in  institutions  :  say, 
then,  that  he  merits  the  name  of  crystallizer ;  for  he  sup 
plied  the  statement  about  which  many  floating  thoughts 
gathered.  If  he  did  not  make  a  terminus,  he  laid  a  new 
track,  along  which  many  will  travel  towards  the  one  cen 
tral  terminus,  —  the  truth. 

The  ethics  of  Theodore  Parker  grew  from  the  same  root 
as  his  religion,  and  were  part  of  the  same  system.  These, 
too,  rested  on  the  spiritual  philosophy,  —  the  philosophy  of 
intuition.  He  believed  that  to  the  human  conscience  was 
made  direct  revelation  of  the  eternal  law ;  that  the  moral 
nature  looked  righteousness  in  the  face.  He  was  ac 
quainted  with  the  objections  to  this  doctrine.  The  op 
posite  philosophy  of  utilitarianism,  whether  as  taught  by 
Bentham  or  by  Mill,  was  well  known  to  him,  but  was 
wholly  unsatisfactory.  Sensationalism  in  morals  was  as 
absurd,  in  his  judgment,  as  sensationalism  in  faith.  The 
Quaker  doctrine  of  the  inner  light  was  nearer  the  truth, 
as  he  saw  it,  than  the  experience  doctrine  of  Herbert 
Spencer.  Experience  might  assist  conscience,  but  create 
it  never.  Conscience  might  consult  even  expediency  for 
its  methods ;  but  for  its  parentage  it  must  look  elsewhere. 
Conscience  for  him  was  authority,  divine,  ultimate. 
What  that  voice  commanded  —  and  he  did  not  go  to 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  or  Wall  Street  to  learn  what  it 
commanded  —  he  obeyed,  even  if  it  commanded  the  cut 
ting  off  of  the  right  hand,  or  the  plucking  out  of  the  right 
eye.  He  would  not  compromise  a  principle,  wrong  a 
neighbor,  injure  a  fellow-creature,  take  what  was  not  fairly 
his,  tell  a  falsehood,  betray  a  trust,  break  a  pledge,  turn  a 


TRIBUTES.  571 

deaf  ear  to  the  cry  of  human  misery,  for  all  the  world  could 
give  him.  At  the  heart  of  every  matter  there  was  a  right 
and  a  wrong,  both  easily  discernible  by  the  simplest  mind. 
The  right  was  eternally  right ;  the  wrong  was  eternally 
wrong ;  and  eternal  consequences  were  involved  in  either. 
Philosophers  might  find  fault  with  his  psychology:  they 
did  find  fault  with  it.  He  answered  them  if  he  could  ;  if 
he  could  not,  he  left  them  answerless :  but  for  himself  he 
never  doubted,  but  leaned  against  his  pillar.  A  cloudy 
pillar  it  certainly  was  :  both  base  and  capital  were  lost  in 
the  mist  of  eternity  ;  but,  so  long  as  it  bore  up  the  moral 
universe,  he  cared  not  what  it  was  made  of.  No  casuist  he. 
The  school  of  fidelity  was  for  him  the  school  of  wisdom. 
The  journal  makes  note  of  a  long  talk  with  a  friend  who 
doubted  the  infallibility  of  conscience  under  any  circum 
stances,  seemed  phrenologically  inclined,  denied  the  will 
of  man  ;  and  the  writer  says  ingenuously,  "  I  could  shed 
no  light  on  the  subject  at  all.  He  took  the  ground  of 
Owen,  that  every  thing  is  forecast  in  the  mental  or  physical 
structure  of  the  man.  He  will  have  a  motive  for  all  things, 
and  makes  action  the  result  of  the  balance  of  forces  inclin 
ing  this  way  or  that.  He  will  outgrow  this.  It  can  only 
be  lived  down.  I  have  passed  through  the  same  stage." 
This  occurred  early  in  his  career,  when  he  was  in  West 
Roxbury  ;  but  his  position  did  not  change  essentially  as 
he  grew  older. 

The  strength  of  Parker's  affections  helped  to  confirm 
h^s  faith  in  conscience,  and  give  intensity  to  his  moral 
instinct.  He  was  a  mighty  lover.  His  friends  were  all 
glorified  by  his  feeling,  till  they  hardly  knew  themselves. 
He  lavished  on  them  terms  of  endearment ;  had  pet  names 
for  them  all ;  kept  their  anniversaries ;  loved  to  have  me 
morials  of  them  about  him.  But  his  affectionateness  by 
no  means  confined  itself  to  his  friends.  His  heart  was 
human  :  its  humanity  was  as  remarkable  as  its  tenderness. 
Love  gave  him  insight,  knowledge,  prophetic  vision ;  taught 


572  THEODORE  PARKER. 

him  to  see  the  soul  of  truth  in  things  erroneous,  the  soul 
of  good  in  things  evil.  That  he  never  forgot  a  kindness, 
never  failed  to  reciprocate  an  act  of  friendliness,  never 
neglected  an  opportunity  of  rendering  service,  is  not  all : 
his  readiness  to  forgive  those  who  hated  him  was  as 
remarkable  as  his  devotion  to  those  who  loved  him. 
Beauty  attracted  him  ;  grace  charmed  him ;  gifts  gained 
his  admiration  ;  but  human  qualities  commanded  his  heart. 
Handsome  or  otherwise,  graceful,  accomplished,  witty, 
learned,  or  otherwise,  his  love  of  qualities  was  the  same, 
knowing  no  distinction  of  persons.  Yet  no  man  or  woman 
ever  breathed  a  whisper  of  suspicion  against  his  constancy. 
No  ardor  of  feeling  softened  to  weakness  the  texture  of 
his  truth. 

The  controversy  is  over  Theodore  Parker's  intellectual 
character.  Was  he  a  philosopher,  an  original  thinker,  an 
exact  scholar,  a  man  of  genius  ?  Whether  he  was  or  not 
is  of  much  less  consequence  than  is  suspected;  for  the 
power  of  his  life  and  character  lay  in  other  departments. 
Some,  perhaps,  have  claimed  too  high  a  place  for  him 
in  the  ranks  of  thinkers :  possibly  he  himself  overrated  his 
intellectual  endowment.  If  by  "  philosopher  "  be  meant  a 
man  of  pure  reason,  he  was  not  one  ;  for  with  him  reason, 
affection,  and  conscience  went  inseparably  together :  but  if 
by  "  philosopher  "  be  meant  a  "  rational  man,"  he  deserves 
to  be  called  one.  He  had  the  prime  quality  of  mental 
integrity :  he  was  a  sincere  lover  of  the  truth  •  would 
neither  deceive  himself  nor  others,  if  it  could  be  avoided  ; 
was  no  diplomatist  of  ideas,  no  politician  of  thoughts,  no 
juggler  with  speech.  He  desired  the  ultimate  fact.  The 
charge  of  intellectual  pretence  or  affectation  cannot,  with 
out  malignity,  be  brought  against  him.  He  was  a  devoted 
"  lover  of  wisdom,"  and  therefore,  by  definition,  a  philoso 
pher. 

His  mental  endowments  were  extraordinary.  What 
power  of  acquisition!  What  power  of  retention!  Was 


TRIBUTES.  573 

there  ever  such  a  memory?  It  never  lost  a  fact.  In  1857, 
thirteen  years  after  his  visit  to  Europe,  he  wrote  to  a  friend 
in  Venice,  "  Please  look  at  the  '  Viaggi  da  Giovanni 
Gabota '  (or  Gabotti,  or  Gabbotti)  in  the  Ducal  Library, 
and  give  me  the  exact  title.  It  used  to  be  the  corner 
book  in  the  corner  of  the  library,  next  the  Canale  Grande, 
on  the  lowest  shelf.  The  book  is  in  no  catalogue  in 
America ;  and  men  say  there  is  no  such."  One  day  he 
recited,  without  hesitancy,  a  comic  song  of  more  than  a 
dozen  verses  ;  and  said,  when  asked  where  he  had  learned 
it,  "  I  never  read  it  in  my  life  ;  but,  when  I  was  twelve 
years  old,  my  brother  brought  me  to  Boston,  to  the  Mu 
seum,  and  a  man  sang  it  there."  He  was  then  forty  years 
of  age.  Dr.  Nathan  Lord  of  Dartmouth,  an  apologist  for 
slavery  in  the  days  when  slavery  had  apologists  among 
divines,  stated  in  a  lecture,  as  a  fact,  that  "  the  black  Afri 
cans  were  largely  descended  from  the  Canaanites,  whose 
name  was  derived  from  Cain,  the  first  murderer  ;  whence 
he  assumed  it  to  be  quite  probable  that  the  blackness  was 
a  brand  set  on  them,  a  mark  of  reprobation.  A  friend, 
being  in  Mr.  Parker's  study,  asked  him  where  Dr.  Lord 
could  have  found  the  fact  that  the  black  Africans  were 
descended  from  the  Canaanites.  "He  got  it,"  said 
Parker,  "  from  Grotius'  '  De  Veritate  ; '  "  and  went  to  the 
shelf  to  verify  the  statement.  The  book  was  not  there, 
but  a  narrow  empty  space  where  it  usually  stood.  "  Miss 
Stevenson  must  have  lent  the  book:  I  have  not.  The 
statement  you  refer  to  occurs  in  that  volume.  Then  he 
proceeded  to  say  how  far  along  in  the  book  it  was,  how 
far  down  the  page,  and  on  which  page  it  was  printed. 
"  Have  you  read  the  book  lately  ? "  asked  the  friend. 
"  No  ;  not  for  many  years  :  I  never  read  it  but  once."  — 
"  Is  the  passage  in  question  associated  with  any  incident 
in  your  experience,  that  you  recall  it  so  readily  ?  "  —  "  No  : 
I  recollect  it  simply  as  a  part  of  the  contents  of  the  book." 
The  passage  was  afterwards  found  where  Parker's  memory 
indicated. 


574  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Such  a  power  of  holding  distinctly  great  masses  of  mis 
cellaneous  facts,  literary  and  other,  will  make  a  man  pass 
for  a  genius  when  he  is  none  ;  but  it  endangers  exactness 
of  thought,  by,  in  a  measure,  dispensing  with  it.  Distinct 
ness  of  recollection  passes  for  nicety  of  discrimination. 
Nothing  may  be  lost ;  but  nothing  may  have  been,  in  the 
best  sense,  gained.  A  great  deal  has  been  said,  every  now 
and  then  something  is  said  again,  about  the  inexactness  of 
Parker's  scholarship ;  and  people  make  the  charge  who 
ought  to  know  what  they  allege,  and  ought  to  be  above 
making  rash  or  ill-natured  assertions.  If  the  charge  is 
true,  —  and  I  do  not  believe  it  is  true  to  any  thing  like 
the  extent  claimed,  —  the  inaccuracy  must  have  been  due, 
partly  to  the  difficulty  of  combining  delicacy  of  touch 
with  immensity  of  grasp,  the  nice  analytic  power  with  the 
power  of  wielding  masses  of  thought,  and  partly  to  the 
lack  of  severe  training.  Self-taught  scholars  are  rarely  nice 
scholars,  not  having  been  subjected  to  the  sharp  criticism 
which  brings  the  faculties  down  to  delicate  discrimina 
tions.  It  certainly  was  not  due  to  heedlessness  or  loose 
ness  of  mind. 

Parker  was  a  thorough  workman :  he  left  no  stone  un 
turned  beneath  which  might  lie  a  fact.  He  slighted  no 
authorities.  As  a  member  of  the  Oriental  Society,  a 
company  of  eight  or  ten  persons  who  met  in  a  parlor  on 
Anniversary  Week,  he  was  to  read  an  essay  on  Moham 
med.  By  way  of  preparation  for  the  task,  he  renewed  his 
acquaintance  with  the  Arabic  and  Spanish  languages  in 
order  to  obtain  original  materials.  Then  he  collected  all 
the  books  he  could  find  relating  to  Mohammed,  till,  stand 
ing  with  their  titles  up,  side  by  side,  they  —  folios,  i2mos, 
and  all  —  covered  a  length  of  twelve  feet  on  his  library 
floor.  These  books  he  read,  extracted  the  pith  from  them 
one  by  one,  and  then  felt  qualified  to  write  the  essay. 
The  inaccuracies  of  such  a  man,  supposing  his  work  done 
conscientiously,  are  not  like  the  inaccuracies  of  the  care- 


TRIBUTES.  575 

less,  who  are  satisfied  with  slight  preparation ;  or  of  the 
dishonest,  who  use  their  materials  treacherously.  That  he 
was  not  a  scholar  after  the  German  type  he  admitted  him 
self  ;  but  as  certainly  was  he  not  a  scholar  of  the  loose, 
conceited  American  type.  Scholarship  with  him  was  not 
primary,  but  secondary.  He  thought  in  masses,  aimed  to 
produce  broad  effects,  and  prevailed  by  virtue  of  his  power 
to  hurl  mountains  of  material  on  the  points  he  wished  to 
carry.  Of  course  he  was  thoughtful  in  regard  to  the  qual 
ity  of  his  material ;  chose  it  with  care  j  handled  it  with 
skill ;  never  used  what  was  unfit :  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
less  dainty  in  his  choice  of  special  bits  than  a  more  fas 
tidious  critic  would  have  been.  His  inaccuracies,  how 
ever  annoying  they  may  be  to  the  mental  precisian,  did 
not  impair  the  substantial  value  of  his  work.  Indeed,  one 
may  suspect  that  the  prodigious  bulk  of  his  acquirements 
has  encouraged  some  to  conjecture  their  inexactness. 
It  is  certain  that  all  who  have  made  the  accusation  are 
not  the  persons  to  substantiate  it.  Sectarians  have  made 
it  to  break  the  force  of  his  assaults ;  dogmatists  have 
made  it  as  a  substitute  for  argument ;  sciolists  have  made 
it,  jealous  of  his  reputation  ;  pedants  have  made  it,  fail 
ing  to  perceive  the  true  points  at  issue,  and  mistaking  the 
dropping  of  an  iota  for  the  omission  of  an  idea. 

We  need  not  be  anxious  to  defend  Mr.  Parker's  reputa 
tion  for  scholarship :  that  must  plead  its  own  cause  at 
the  bar  of  scholarship  itself.  I  have  said  so  much,  partly 
to  account  for  the  insinuations  against  it,  but  more  to 
guard  against  allowing  to  them  an  undue  weight  in  the 
estimate  of  his  intellectual  work.  It  is  admitted  that  his 
receptive  powers  were  enormous :  it  is  admitted  that  they 
were  only  matched  by  his  power  to  retain  what  he  re 
ceived.  These  two  admissions,  if  they  do  not  render  sus 
picion  of  grave  errors  unreasonable,  do,  at  least,  suggest 
caution  in  regard  to  its  indulgence. 

For  the  rest  it  may  as  well  be  confessed  frankly,  that  the 


576  THEODORE  PARKER. 

aesthetic  department  of  his  mind  was  imperfect.  True, 
the  absorption  of  his  life  in  the  business  of  social  reform 
might  have  suppressed  the  aesthetic  element,  even  had  it 
been  strong.  But  this  did  not  suppress  the  theological  bent 
of  his  mind,  which  must,  therefore,  have  been  stronger.  He 
may  have  deliberately  sacrificed  it  on  the  altar  of  practi 
cal  utilities :  but  then  it  should  have  appeared,  and  given 
promise  of  fair  proportions,  before  the  pressure  of  practical 
utilities  came  ;  and  this  it  never  did.  He  read  poetry, 
but  was  not  an  artist  in  verse  ;  he  examined  works  of 
painting  and  of  plastic  art,  but  was  not  a  connoisseur. 
By  his  own  confession,  made  when  he  first  visited  the  Old 
World,  and  during  his  last  visit  in  Rome,  the  fine  arts 
interested  him  less  than  the  coarse  arts,  which  fed,  clothed, 
housed,  and  comforted  mankind.  "  I  should  rather,"  he 
wrote  from  Rome  in  1859,  "be  such  a  man  as  Franklin  than 
a  Michael  Angelo ;  nay,  if  I  had  a  son,  I  should  rather 
see  him  a  great  mechanic  who  organized  use  like  the  late 
George  Stephenson  in  England,  than  a  great  painter  like 
Rubens,  who  only  copied  beauty :  in  short,  I  take  more 
interest  in  a  cattle-show  than  in  a  picture-show.  I  love 
beauty,  —  beauty  in  nature,  in  art,  in  the  dear  face  of  man 
and  woman  ;  but,  when  a  nation  runs  after  beauty  to  the 
neglect  of  use,  alas  for  that  people  ! "  He  had  no  sym 
pathy  with  those  who  lamented  the  "  absence  of  art "  in 
America.  The  useful  arts  more  than  made  amends. 
"  There  is  not  a  saw-mill  in  Rome  !  "  he  cries. 

He  had  a  better  eye  for  form  than  for  color  ;  a  better 
eye  for  moral  expression  than  for  either.  He  admired 
most  what  expressed  the  highest  sentiment  in  the  most 
pathetic  manner.  As  might  have  been  expected,  music 
gave  him  but  little  delight.  He  used  to  call  it  "  the  least 
intellectual  of  the  fine  arts."  Jewels  and  plate  interested 
him,  more  from  their  human  associations,  as  heirlooms  or 
appendages  to  certain  family  estates,  than  as  works  of 
art:  their  richness  and  preciousness,  fineness  of  shape, 


TRIBUTES.  577 

and  delicacy  of  carving,  were  blended  with  something  of 
history,  with  records  of  service,  or  memories  of  social  joy. 
The  diamonds  in  Dresden  delighted  him:  but  the  dia 
monds  in  Dresden  had  belonged  to  great  houses,  played 
a  part  in  pageants,  decorated  beautiful  women,  shone  in 
coronets  and  belts,  graced  royal  occasions ;  thus  they 
suggested  to  the  gazer  a  brilliancy  not  their  own. 

In  poetry,  it  was  again  the  earnest,  human  quality  that 
gave  him  deepest  satisfaction.  He  loved  the  field-flowers 
of  literature  best,  —  the  homely  ballads,  the  songs  of  the 
people,  full  of  nature,  warm  with  feeling.  The  German 
legend  of  Tannhaiiser  was  familiar  to  him  in  every  lan 
guage  and  dialect.  He  traced  the  romantic  story  of 
Hero  and  Leander  through  the  whole  range  of  litera 
ture.  His  admiration  for  Mrs.  Browning's  poetry  was  not 
unqualified.  "  Aurora  Leigh  "  he  did  not  care  to  read  a 
second  time.  Verses  that  had  a  sentiment  in  them,  a 
smile,  or,  better  still,  a  tear,  lingered  longest  in  his 
memory.  He  was  fond  of  quoting  poetry  in  sermons; 
but  it  was  chiefly  of  a  didactic  or  sentimental  character. 
The  following  lines  from  Lowell's  "  Ghost  Seer  "  were 
recited  as  many  as  half  a  dozen  times  in  two  years,  so 
deep  was  the  impression  they  made  on  him :  —  , 

"  Hark  that  rustle  of  a  dress 
Stiff  with  lavish  costliness  ! 
Here  comes  one  whose  cheek  would  blush 
But  to  have  her  garment  brush 
'Gainst  the  girl  whose  fingers  thin 
Wove  the  weary  broidery  in, 
Bending  backwards  from  her  toil 
Lest  her  tears  the  silk  might  soil, 
And  in  midnight's  chill  and  murk 
Stitched  her  life  into  the  work, 
Shaping  from  her  bitter  thought 
Heart's-ease  and  forget-me-not, 
Satirizing  her  despair 
With  the  emblems  woven  there." 
49 


578  THEODORE  PARKER. 

Shakspeare  he  knew,  of  course  :  but  it  would  hardly  be 
suspected  from  his  writings  •  for,  though  he  did  once  or 
twice  recommend  the  study  of  him  to  young  people,  he 
rarely  quoted  him,  and  seldom  spoke  of  his  plays  with 
enthusiasm.  The  Sonnets  pleased  him  most,  because 
saturated  with  personal  feeling.  He  once  thought  of 
editing  the  Sonnets.  As  compared  with  Homer  and 
Sophocles,  Shakspeare  was  nothing  to  him  as  a  resource 
in  weary  hours  :  he  was  less  than  Milton,  or  than  Words 
worth  even,  as  a  companion.  A  passage  in  the  journal 
gives  the  impression,  that  in  moral  qualities,  superiority  to 
the  religious  and  social  prejudices  of  his  time,  courage  to 
expose  popular  follies  and  fashionable  vices,  Shakspeare 
was,  in  his  judgment,  greatly  inferior  to  Moliere.  Play 
fully,  yet  half  in  earnest  too,  he  said  one  day,  "  Shak 
speare,  if  he  were  living  now,  would  be  a  hunker  and  a 
snob."  This  absence  from  his  mind  of  the  fine  artistic 
quality  accounts  for  the  something  like  crudeness  that 
mars  occasionally  his  treatment  of  the  poetical  side  of 
ancient  religions,  their  scriptures  and  their  dogmas ;  and 
even  helps  to  explain  certain  inaccuracies,  which  sprang 
from  a  defect  in  aesthetic  perception  oftener  than  from 
infidelity  to  literal  facts. 

The  thing  of  most  moment  to  say  of  Parker  is,  that  he 
was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  uses.  His  gifts,  natural  and 
acquired,  he  held  in  trust  for  his  fellow-men.  The  higher 
the  gifts,  the  deeper  the  responsibility.  The  gifts,  as  he 
could  not  but  be  aware,  were  great :  the  sense  of  duty  was, 
therefore,  incessant ;  in  a  less  capable  man  it  would  have 
been  excessive.  But  his  keen  enjoyment  of  life,  and  the 
ease  with  which  he  performed  his  tasks,  deprived  the  bur 
den  of  service  of  its  apparent  weight.  "  Let  him  that  is 
greatest  among  you  be  your  minister,  and  him  that  is  chief 
among  you  be  the  servant  of  all,"  was  perpetually  in  his 
heart,  but  not  as  it  is  with  the  ascetic  or  the  self-immolator. 
His  gifts  were  so  rooted  in  the  common  earth,  had  such  a 


TRIBUTES.  579 

strong  savor  of  the  ground,  derived  such  fragrance  and 
color  from  the  soil  of  humanity,  it  seemed  to  cost  so 
little  to  grow  them,  that  their  ceaseless  consumption  by 
pilgrims,  wayfarers,  and  cattle  even,  caused  no  thought 
of  waste,  but  rather  suggested  the  inexhaustible  resources 
of  the  nature  from  which  they  grew.  Pure  religion,  noble 
institutions,  just  laws,  humane  customs,  sweet  morals, 
lovely  manners,  all  slept  in  the  common  sods  of  humanity, 
and  needed  but  gracious  air  and  sunshine  to  ripen  like 
flowers  of  paradise.  To  supply  the  air  and  sunshine  he 
felt  to  be  a  privilege,  not  a  toil ;  and,  when  the  labor  be 
came  more  severe,  —  the  blasting  of  rocks,  the  felling  of 
trees,  the  breaking-up  of  fallow  ground,  the  ploughing 
deep  furrows  across  stubborn  fields, — he  was  cheered  in 
it  by  the  vision  of  the  fertility  that  was  to  follow. 

Faith  in  humanity  —  this  was  his  secret ;  love  for 
humanity — this  was  his  inspiration;  sympathy  with  hu 
manity — this  was  his  consoler.  This  faith  was  his  key 
to  literature,  art,  philosophy,  society.  Had  he  lived  to 
be  an  old  man,  he  would  have  illustrated  his  principle 
more  amply:  he  could  not  have  more  forcibly  demon 
strated  it. 

He  was  a  worker,  — he  lived  for  uses  ;  a  reformer,  who 
spent  his  life  in  efforts  to  make  society  more  shapely. 
Every  thing  he  had  was  turned  instantly  to  service.  No 
gift  was  folded  in  a  napkin ;  no  pot  of  gold  was  buried 
in  the  cellar ;  no  fine  accomplishment  was  hung  up  as 
ornament,  or  kept  on  the  centre-table  for  the  entertain 
ment  of  visitors.  He  was  no  dilettante.  His  conscience, 
if  nothing  else,  would  have  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
be  a  mere  scholar  toying  with  books.  He  could  never 
respect  Goethe ;  he  disliked  Margaret  Fuller ;  he  de 
tested  Rousseau.  The  great  work  which  was  the  dream 
of  many  years  was  conceived,  not  in  the  interest  of  litera 
ture,  but  in  the  interest  of  mankind.  We  recur  once 
more  to  C.  A.  Bartol's  impressions  of  him :  — 


580  THEODORE  PARKER. 

"  Right  or  wrong,  I  could  not  recognize  in  him  genius  poetic, 
philosophic,  or  metaphysic,  but  only  immense  talent,  and  a  con 
science  since  Luther  unsurpassed.  He  was  a  power,  not  in  the 
realm  of  imagination,  but  of  fact ;  the  sheriff  of  ideas,  the 
translator  of  knowledge  into  deed.  It  was  the  fault  of  some  of 
his  contemporaries  to  be  too  content  with  the  beautiful  percep 
tions,  and  his  merit  to  insist  on  putting  all  the  poetry  into 
prose.  He  was  not  a  master  to  set  the  ball  in  motion,  but  a 
loyal  follower  or  ally  to  keep  the  motion  up  till  every  error  and 
sin  fell  before  it  in  the  way ;  not  an  organic  and  incarnate 
revolutionizer,  or  instaurator  of  opinion,  like  Swedenborg,  but 
moral  from  the  first  brain-cell  to  his  fingers'  ends.  Having  the 
eternal  principles  in  charge,  he  used  the  timely  opportunity  to 
set  them  in  gear ;  and,  in  such  zeal  and  ability,  he  transcended 
those  who  were  otherwise  his  superiors  or  peers. 

"  Parker  was  scientific  in  not  admitting  the  entity  of  sin. 
Jesus  did  not  admit  it,  though  he  was  conscious  of  it,  if  we 
mean  by  sin  the  rebuke  of  the  ideal  on  all  the  facts  of  life  :  but 
he  did  not  dwell  on  or  profess  it ;  was  no  'professor  of  sin. 
Why  talk  of  the  sickness  of  the  mind  more  than  of  the  body  ? 
But  who  ever  more  bravely  than  this  son  of  a  soldier  fought 
the  Devil,  and  moved  more  immediately  on  his  works  ?  How 
finer  seers  lagged  behind  this  terrible  doer  !  His  great  gro 
tesque  figure  was  a  Yankee  reminder  of  the  Greek  Socrates  ; 
and  those  of  us  who  discounted  aught  from  his  dimensions  on 
the  score  of  any  disproportion  of  temper  or  taste,  shall,  in  any 
revise  of  our  proofs,  witness  his  steady  growth  in  our  reverence 
and  esteem." 

The  above  passage  is  cited  as  the  testimony  of  a  keen 
and  friendly  critic  to  the  fact  of  Parker's  eminence  in  the 
domain  of  use ;  which  is  the  point  I  am  insisting  on. 
That  Dr.  Bartol  does  less  than  justice  to  his  intellectual 
greatness  as  a  thinker  and  initiator,  as  I  believe,  does  not 
detract  from  the  value  of  his  testimony  to  the  man's  essen 
tial  grandeur,  —  that  of  being  an  adorer  of  the  Infinite 
Perfection,  and  a  devoted  lover  of  his  kind.  The  "  origi 
nality"  of  religious  reformers  must  not  be  severely  scru 
tinized.  Jesus  borrowed  the  material  he  used.  His 


TRIBUTES.  581 

ideas  existed  before  he  did :  his  genius  lay  in  his  use  of 
them.  It  was  the  genius  of  character.  He  made  him 
self  a  focus  for  the  solar  rays  which  had  been  wandering 
through  the  atmosphere  for  ages.  The  thoughts  of  Paul 
were  lying  loosely  about  on  the  surface  of  his  theologic 
world :  he  had  the  genius  to  combine  and  apply  them. 
Swedenborg  is  called  a  seer ;  but  the  substance  of  his 
vision  had  been  seen  by  many  a  fine  soul  before  his  eye 
was  blessed  by  it.  That  Theodore  Parker  was  the  peer 
of  either  of  these  is  by  no  means  claimed  •  but  they  that 
bring  against  him,  as  if  it  were  a  damning  fault,  that  he 
lacked  genius,  must  consider  how  far  their  accusation 
reaches.  The  highest  genius  is  that  which  creates  uses  ; 
and  of  this  he  did  possess  something.  The  world  at 
large  felt  that  he  did ;  and  the  testimony  of  the  popular 
consciousness,  though  not  finely  discriminating,  is  sound. 
He  is  probably'not  destined  still  to  ascend  in  the  ranks 
of  scholars,  philosophers,  men  of  letters,  or  men  of  pure 
thought ;  but  that  he  is  destined  to  hold  a  nobler  place 
in  the  regards  of  mankind  may  be  anticipated. 

The  influence  of  his  thought  has  been  very  great,  not 
more  in  the  realm  of  opinion  than  in  the  realm  of  charac 
ter  ;  and  it  is  destined  to  be  still  greater.  A  gentleman  of 
intelligence,  who,  in  the  days  of  the  Unitarian  controversy, 
had  left  his  church  and  minister  because  he  had  ex 
changed  with  Theodore  Parker,  resumed  his  old  connec 
tion  some  time  during  the  war.  It  occurred  one  day  to 
his  minister  to  ask  pleasantly  the  reason  of  his  return. 
He  replied,  "  I  went  away  because  I  could  not  bear  the 
smallest  seeming  of  encouragement  to  Theodore  Parker ; 
but,  v/hen  I  saw  the  influence  of  his  mind  on  our  soldiers, 
I  was  forced  to  make  a  different  estimate  of  the  man." 
The  youth  of  America  needs  the  influence  of  that  mind 
to-day,  and  will  need  it  for  many  days  to  come. 

Theodore   Parker    looked   the  man   he  was,  —  sturdy, 
strong  in  legs  and  arms,  with  a  muscular  grip  of  the  hand 
49* 


582  THEODORE  PARKER. 

that  knit  one  to  him  at  once,  and  a  planted  foot  that 
asserted  a  whole  man's  title  to  stand  on  the  planet.  The 
lower  portion  of  his  face  was  not  good, — strong  and  firm, 
but  a  little  grim  in  expression.  His  lip  curled  easily  j  and 
a  slightly  Socratic  nose  had  possibilities  of  sarcasm  which 
the  stranger  might  find  repellent.  The  glory  of  the  head 
was  the  massive  dome,  smooth  and  lofty,  which  suggested 
the  man  of  thought ;  and  underneath  it  the  clear,  frank 
blue  eye,  that  invited  confidence,  but  had  in  it  the  gleam 
of  a  sword  to  pierce  through  hypocrisy,  and  cleave  false 
hood  to  the  ground.  Not  a  handsome  man,  seraphic, 
poetic ;  not  the  ideal  of  the  philosopher,  the  saint,  or  even 
the  prophet ;  a  man  of  the  people  rather ;  a  working-man, 
to  look  at  him,  but  a  working-man  with  such  tools  as 
prophets,  philosophers,  and  saints  use  ;  a  true  American  if 
there  ever  was  one ;  the  best  working-plan  of  an  Ameri 
can  yet  produced. 


INDEX. 


Adams,  C.  F.,  401. 

Adams,  J.  Q.,  399. 

Adventures  of  a  day,  249. 

"Advertiser,"  Daily,  158. 

Agassiz,  326,  371. 

Alcott,  Bronson,  96,  98,  113,  123,  125, 

126,  128,  139,  141,  425. 
Alger,  Rev.  William,  letter  to,  506. 
Allen,  Joseph,  letters  to,  217,  236. 
Andrew,  John  A.,  215,  429. 
Andrews,  Samuel  P.,  80;  letters  to, 

82,  84,  86,  94,  506. 
Anniversary,   twelfth,  of   settlement, 

JP4f4*$ 

"Antiquary,  "36. 
Anti-Sabbath  Convention,  354. 
Augustine,  53,  54,  120. 


B. 


Bancroft,  George,  1 13  ;  letter  to,  382. 
Banks,  N.  P.,  445. 
Barnard,  Mr.,  letter  to,  282. 
Barnstable,  life  at,  69-76. 
Bartol,  Rev.  C.  A.,  42,  168,  275,  580. 
Baur,  205. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  441 ;  contrast 
ed  with  Theodore  Parker,  341. 
Beecher,  Rev.  Lyman,  29,  51. 


Berry-street  Conference,  416. 

Betrothal,  35. 

Bigelow,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.,  letter  to, 

258. 

Billings,  Mi.  J.  H.,  letter  to,  474. 
Birthday-record,  481. 
Birthplace,  i.  i 

Blake,  Admiral,  298. 
Blodgett,  Levi,  letter  of,  114. 
Boston  Committee  of  Vigilance,  401. 
Boston  Ministerial  Association,  160. 
Bowditch,  Dr.,  letter  to,  358. 
Bowman,  Dr.,  letters  to,  280,  281. 
Boyhood,  10-27. 
Brace,  Charles  L.,  365. 
Bradford,  Mr.,  63. 
Bridges,  Mrs.  Julia,  letter  to,  277. 
Brook  Farm,  138. 
Brown,  John,  278,  280,  379,  449,  453, 

455>  527 ;  farewell  of,  455. 
Brownson,  Orestes,  134,  139. 
Buchanan,  James,  380,  448. 
Burns,  Anthony,  422,  428. 
Burns,  Robert,  304. 


Cabot,  F.  S.,  letter  to,  60. 
Cabot,  Lydia  D.,  35,  39,  ill. 
Calhoun,  J.  C.,  63,  442. 
Cambridge,  37. 

583 


534 


INDEX. 


Camp-meeting,  73,  74. 
Candidate,  the,  67-87. 
Capital  punishment,  363. 
Cappen  Parker,  i. 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  140.  . 
Catacombs,  193. 
Catholic  Church,  195,  207. 
Central  New  York,  visit  to,  491. 
Channing,  Dr.,  29,  35,  55,  88,  96-98, 
107,  112,  133,  150,  176,   177,  217, 

298,  34°,  349- 

Channing,  Dr.,  compared  with  Theo 
dore  Parker,  340. 

Channing,  William  F.,  399. 

Channing,  William  F.,  424. 

Channing,  \Villiam  H.,  105,  125. 

Chapin,  Dr.,  441. 

Character,  564. 

Chardon-street  Convention,  133. 

Chase,  Salmon  P.,  444. 

Child,  Lydia  M.,  184;  letter  to,  507. 

"Childe  Harold,"  38. 

Cholmondeley,  Thomas,  513. 

Christ,  1 1 8. 

Christendom  at  Rome,  191. 

Christening,  16. 

Church,  136. 

Church,  idea  of,  231. 

City,  the  Eternal,  531,  536. 

Clarke,  J.  F.,  106,  215,  223,  420,  542. 

Clay,  Henry,  63,  442. 

Cobbe,  Frances  Power,  315,  369,  514. 

Codex  Matrimonius,  87. 

Coleridge,  140. 

Commemorative  exercises,  546. 

Commercial  panic  of  1857,  463. 

Communion,  121. 

Concord,  63,  126. 

Conflict  renewed,  210-241. 

Correspondence,   specimens  of,   252- 

331- 

Counsel  for  defence,  429. 
Craft,  William  and  Ellen,  400,  403, 

406,  407,  514. 

Cranch,  C.  P.,  43,  45,  90,  126. 
Crittenden,  Attorney-General,  399. 
Cuba,  annexation  of,  320. 


Curtis,  B.  R.,  429. 
Curtis,  George  T.,  415. 

D. 

Dana,  R.  H.,  422,  426. 

Dante,  57. 

Darwinism,  179. 

Death,  535  ;  of  father,  77,  283. 

Departure,  508. 

Desor,  Prof.,  316,  318,  322,  326,  371 ; 
letters  from,  558-564. 

De  Wette,  54,  205  ;  "  Biblical  Dog 
matics,"  117;  translation  from,  75, 
85,  86,  177,  180,  207. 

Dewey,  Rev.  Orville,  53,  417. 

"Dial,"  139,  164,  223. 

Dingee,  Martha,  letter  to,  260. 

"  Discourse  of  Matters  pertaining  to 
Religion,"  161. 

Divinity  School,  30,  33,  37,  41. 

Divorce,  369. 

Doctors'  counsel,  516. 

Dwight,  John,  43,  45,  87. 

Dyer,  R.  W.,  127. 

E. 

Early  Christians,  120. 

Early  theological  views,  52. 

Eddy,  Mrs.  Eliza  P.,  letter  to,  278. 

Ellis,  Mr.  Charles,  letters  to,  363,  401, 
426,  429. 

Ellis,  George  E.,  letter  to,  106. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  63,  75,  97, 
105,  106,  118,  121,  125,  152,  160, 
300,  309,  329,  375,  437,  441,  442, 

454- 

Emigrant-aid  Society,  438. 
Englishmen,  471. 
Europe,  first  visit  to,  183,  210  ;  second 

visit  to,  513,  536. 
European  politics,  318,  324. 
"Examiner,"  121. 
Exchanges,  122,  158. 
Exeter  Place,  241-258. 
Extracts  from  journal,  60,  61,  414. 


INDEX. 


585 


F. 

Failing  health,  477-508. 

Family,  2,  3. 

"Farbenlehre,"  109. 

Farewell  to  Music-hall  Society,  504. 

Felton,  Prof.,  letter  to,  257. 

Ferment  of  thought,  125,  147. 

Fillmore,  Millard,  399,  409. 

Fiske,  George,  20,  22,  23. 

Flournoy,  Mr.,  letter  to,  390. 

Flowers,  242. 

Fock,  Dr.,  256,  287. 

Follen,  Dr.  Charles,  96,  107,205,255. 

Forbes,  Hugh,  459,  461. 

Formulas,  387. 

France,  472. 

Francis,  Rev.  Convers,  33,  34,  47,  63, 
68,  87,  90,  99,  108,  112,  113,  125, 
139,  147,  161,  173,  180,  208,  348; 
letters  to,  115,  200. 

Fraternity  course,  501. 

Freeman,  Dr.,  167. 

Fremont,  Gen.,  380,  436,  438. 

Fugitive-slave  Bill,  378. 

Fuller,  Margaret,  140,  579. 

G. 

Gannett,  Rev.  E.  S.,  55,  168,  170,  223. 

Garrett,  Thomas,  380. 

Garrison,   William  Lloyd,    113,   349, 

354,  356>  454- 
Geary,  Gov.,  438. 
German  books,  148. 
Germans,  469. 
Goethe,   56,  58,  108,  109,  204,  299", 

579- 

Groton  Convention,  133. 
Gurowski,  322. 

H. 

Hale,  John  P.,  letters  to,  393,  429, 

444,  447,  461. 
Hallett,  B.  F.,  429. 
Harvard,  26,  27. 


Hastings,  John,  19. 

Health-scale,  480. 

Hebrew,  33,  47. 

Hedge,  Frederic  H.,  96,  125. 

Hegelianism,  lecture  on,  201. 

"  Herald,"  New- York,  158. 

Heretics,  120. 

Higginson,  T.  W.,  325,  327,  365,  397, 

425,  429,  436,  458,  460,  478. 
Hollis-street  Society,  164. 
Home,  12-27. 
Homer,  35. 

Hopper,  Isaac  T.,  184. 
Household,  241. 
Howe,  Julia  Ward,  321,  324. 
Howe,  Dr.,  321,  322,  324,  344,  349, 

401,  422,  437,  459,  460,  461. 
Humboldt,  Alexander  von,  323. 
Hunt,  Miss,  letters  to,  438,  439,  464, 

47°,  474>  482,  483,  490,  491. 

I. 

Impressions  of  convention  at  Groton, 
132. 

J. 

Jerome,  53,  120. 
Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  35. 

K. 

Kansas  State  Committee,  453. 
Kansas-Nebraska  Bill,  379,  420. 
Kansas,  war  in,  435~475- 
Kidnappers,  proclamation  concerning, 

413- 

Kossuth,  322,  347. 
Kiichler,  Lorenzo,  518. 


Languages,  47. 
"Latimer  Journal,"  399. 
Leo  X.,  469. 

Lesley,  Peter,  letter  to,  325. 
Library,  242. 


586 


INDEX. 


Light  reading,  485. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  380. 

Loring,  Charles  G.,  296. 

Loring,  Ellis  Gray,  405. 

Loring,  Edward  Greely,  421. 

Lowell,  Dr.,  401. 

Lowell,  Russell,  "  Ghost-Seer,"  577. 

M. 

Mann,  Horace,  letter  to,  394. 

Marriage,  letters  on,  366,  369. 

Martineau,  Harriet,  37. 

Martineau,  Rev.  James,  207  ;  letter  to, 
407. 

Masonic  Temple,  216. 

"  Massachusetts  Quarterly  Review," 
396. 

Mathieu,  M.,  "Etudes  Cliniques," 
321. 

May,  Samuel  J.,  217,  299,  325,  416; 
letters  to,  286,  288. 

Meeting  of  Boston  Ministerial  As 
sociation,  161. 

Melodeon,  216,  230,  333. 

Memory,  retentiveness  of,  573. 

Mexican  War,  363,  378. 

Michelet,  M.,  376. 

Militia,  25. 

Millard  Fillmore,  399,  409. 

Milton,  35,  304. 

Ministry  in  Boston,  216. 

Miracles,  53. 

Moliere,  578. 

More,  Henry,  108,  124. 

Morrison,  John,  429. 

Mother,  7,  15. 

Munch,  Rev.  Friederich,  letter  to,  255. 

Music  Hall,  332 ;  last  sermon  in,  504 ; 
audiences,  335. 


N. 

Neighbors,  n. 

New  Bedford,  481. 

"  New  Crime  against  Humanity,"  429. 

New  York,  136,  184. 


Nitsch,  206. 

Non-resistant  Convention,  133;  non- 
resistance,  360. 
Northfield,  75,  76,  82. 
Norton,  Andrews,  106,  113,  114,  175 
Novel-reading,  58,  in. 
Nute,  Rev.  Mr.,  436,  438. 

O. 

Origen,  53. 

Ossawattomie  Brown,  452. 
Oxford,  185. 

P. 

Paine,  Thomas,  179. 

Palfrey,  Dr.,  38,  42,  47,  99 ;  letter  to, 

388. 

Palmer,  Joseph,  127. 
Parentage,  2. 
Parker,  A.  M.,  letter  to,  268. 


Parker,  E.  G., 
Parker,  J.  B., 


422. 
292. 


Parker,  M.  M.,    «       "    269. 

Parker  family,  2,  3. 

Parkman,  Dr.,  114,  223. 

Parsons,  Theophilus,  106. 

Pastor,  the,  241,  252. 

Patterson,  J.  B.,  letter  to,  267. 

Paul  and  Christianity,  119. 

Peabody,  E.  P.,  113;  letters  to,  123, 

143- 

Pedestrianism,  no. 
Pemberton  Mill  at  Lawrence,  470. 
"  Perishing  Classes,"  sermon  on,  364. 
Personality  of  God,  97,  98. 
Phillips,  Mr.  Jonathan,  96. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  96,  241,  349,  365, 

401,  422,  424,  429. 
Pierce,  Franklin,  379,  426,  437. 
Pierpont,    Rev.   John,   87,    164,  170, 

223,  329,  357;  letter  to,  276. 
Plato,  109,  144. 
Poetry,  love  of,  577. 
Pope,  the,  195,  197. 
Porter,  Prof.,  344. 


INDEX. 


S87 


Praj-ers,  145  ;    for  Theodore  Parker, 

494. 

Preacher,  the,  332,  351. 
Preaching,  68  ;    intellectual  influence 

of,  350. 

Pvescott,  441 ;  histories,  review  of,  397. 
Prisons,  363. 

Progressive  Friends,  sermons  to,  496. 
Prohibition,  359. 
Proudman,  Samuel  T.,  429. 
Psalms  of  David,  38. 
Putnam,  Dr.,  68,  264. 

Q. 

Quincy,  Josiah,  347,  402,  441. 

R. 

Reading,  44,  47,  89,  108,  109. 

Reeder,  Gov.,  437. 

Reformer,  the,  352,  376. 

Reform  School,  364. 

Revival  of  1858,  494. 

Rhode  Island  and  Delaware,  381. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul,  99,  108. 

Ripley,  Dr.,  126. 

Ripley,  Mr.  George,  78,  87,  91,  96, 
97,  107,  112,  114,  125,  126,  136, 
137,  147,  167,  174,  314;  letter  to, 

329- 
Robbins,  Rev.  Chandler,  87,  106, 166, 

168,  314;  letter  from,  168. 
Roman  friends,  525. 
Rome,  190 ;  departure  from,  197. 
Rules  of  living,  48,  49. 
Russell,  George  R.,  89,  208,  422. 
Russell,  Mrs.,  250. 

S. 

Sabbath  and  Sunday,  354. 
Salem,  63,  79. 
Saltonstafl,  Sir  Richard,  2. 
Sanborn,  Charles  H.,  435. 
Sanborn,  F.  B.,  273,  449,  460. 
Sanford,  Albert,  371. 
Sargent,  Rev.  John  T.,  212,  223,  284, 
365,  408. 


Saturday-afternoon  class,  237. 

Schedule  of  labors,  81. 

Schemes  of  work,  93,  94. 

Schenkel,  206. 

Scholarship,  574. 

School,  28,  30. 

School-days,  18. 

Schleiermacher,  106. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  36,  37. 

"  Scriptural  Interpreter,"  55. 

Search,  the,  508. 

Seaver,  Mr.  Horace,  179. 

Sennott,  Mr.,  437. 

Sermon-topics,  338. 

Seward,  Hon.  William  H.,  461 ;  letter 
to,  442. 

Shadrach,  412. 

Shakspeare,  6,  109,  269,  304,  578. 

Shaw,  Francis  G.,  89,  414. 

Shaw,  Lemuel,  416. 

Shelley,  106. 

Ship-board,  184. 

Siljestrom,  325. 

Silsbee,  Rev.  Mr.,  72,  75,  79,  88,  99, 
114,  272,  298. 

Simmons,  Rev.  Mr.,  ordination,  107. 
j  Sims,  Thomas,  415,  418. 
i  Sketches  of  work,  112. 

Slavery,  fight  with,  376,  435. 

Smith,  Hon.  Gerritt,  451. 

Smith,  Increase,  letter  to,  355. 

Smith,  Isaac,  114. 

Smith,  Marianne,  22. 

Snell,  Mr.,  332. 
.Socialism,  134. 

Sonnets,  60,  240,  251,  331,  476,  507, 
520,  536. 

South-Boston  sermon,  152,  166. 

Spiritualism,  372. 

Spring  Street,  88. 

Spurgeon,  340. 

Sterling,  207. 

Stetson,  Caleb,  87, 

Stowell,  Martin,  429. 

Stuart,  Moses,  113. 

Study,  28,  117. 

Stearns,  George  L.,  458,  461. 


538 


INDEX. 


Stearns,  Hannah,  7. 
Stevenson,   Miss  H.,  241,  254,  297, 
315,  322,  365,  366;  letters  to,  385, 

4°i,  479,  531- 
St.  Hilaire,  Geoffrey,  186. 
Strauss,  91,  121,  206. 
Sturgis,  William,  258. 
Sumner,  Charles,  302,  309,  329,  349, 

38li  395,  4J5,  4!6,  44°,  444,  445, 

447,  474 ;  letter  to,  362. 
Suffrage,  woman,  369. 
Sunday  school,  287. 
Suttle,  Charles  F.,  421. 
Swedenborg,  145  ;  Hobart's  Life  of, 

372. 
Swift,  John  L.,  423. 

T. 

Taylor,  Gen.,  378. 
Teaching,  24,  28. 
Temperance,  357. 
Tertullian,  53,  120. 
Texas,  annexation  of,  378. 
Thackeray,  309. 
Thomas,  S.  J.,  422. 
Thoreau,  455. 
Thursday  Lecture,  213. 
Tombs,  136,  184. 
Transcendentalism,  125. 
Transcendental  movement    in    Eng 
land,  149 ;  in  France,  149. 
Translations,  486. 

U. 

"  Underground  Railroad,"  380. 
Unitarian  controversy,  147- 182. 
Universalists,  218. 


V. 


Vacation,  67. 


Verses,  59. 

Vigilance  Committee,  399. 
Visitation  Day,  65. 
Visitors,  245. 
Voltaire,  299. 

W. 

Wagon-journey,  497. 

Walker,  Dr.,  98,  107. 

Walker,  Mr.  George,  453. 

Waltham,  25,  26,  85. 

"  Wanderjahre,"  58. 

War,  361. 

Wares,  37,  42,  87,  106,  107,  314. 

Washington,  63. 

Wasson,  Rev.  D.  A.,  letters  to,  254, 

327. 

Waterston,  Rev.  R.  C.,  168,  216. 
Watertown,  life  in,  33. 
Webster,  Daniel,  324,  325,  340,  346, 

379,  398,  42°,  44i- 
Webster,  Prof.,  363. 
Weiss,  Rev.  Mr.,  17,  33,  126,  253, 

368,  486. 

West  Indies,  508,  511. 
West  Roxbury,  85,  87,  123,  211,  212, 

230. 

Whipple,  Charles  K.,  401. 
White,  Etta  M.,  letter  to,  265. 
White,  Pres.,  47. 
Whitefield,  Parker  and,  334. 
Wilcox,  H.  A.,  letter  to,  266. 
Wilder,  Mr.,  30. 
Wilkinson,  Dr.,  254. 
Williamson,  Passmore,  letter  to,  445. 
Wilmington,  Del.,  380. 
Wilson,  Henry,  letter  to,  445. 
Woodbury,  Judge,  403. 
Woman,  weak,  36 ;  woman,  364. 
Wordsworth,  298. 


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